Riptide
by savingophelia
Summary: 'The smell of salt on the cold wind, rough wooden deck beneath her bare feet, and she'd never been happier. What that said about her, she didn't know.' In which Emma Swan is an infamous pirate captain, Regina makes her own choices and the epic adventure might actually have been an epic romance in disguise. Swan Queen pirate AU.
1. Prologue

**A/N -** Welcome, swen! This is going to be twenty five chapters, kinda slow burn but if there's any fandom that can handle that it's us. Also I feel like I should warn you that H00k appears in this prologue and briefly in chapter one, but that is all, he is nothing but a plot device and vanishes after that. Also, bear with me, since this and the next one (which I'll post today) are mainly setting the scene for the real story and for our ladies to meet. Here we go.

 **Prologue**

"Come on, Rocinante!" Regina urged, voice rough and thick with cold. "We're nearly free."

Night wind rushed over her skin as she rode, stinging her cheeks and making her eyes water. She curled her fingers fighter around the horse's reins. All around, the shadows of the trees, black on black, were growing sparser. They had to be close now. She'd been riding two days straight. "Come on." Two days of breathlessness. Two days of her heartbeat rising to contend with the thunder of her horse's hooves tearing at the hard-packed dirt road. Two days of hard determination. Two days closer to freedom. Two days alone.

Except that wasn't how she felt. It felt like she'd _been_ alone all her life and now she never would be again, because she had herself back. Maybe that didn't make sense. It didn't matter. She was too close now.

Above her, the inky sky unfurled like a tapestry, scattered with stars. A chalky rind of moon hung sullenly above the black treetops. Regina gripped Rocinante's reins, leaning close enough to his neck that she could feel his pulse, racing out of time with hers. The animal's warmth seeped through her cold skin. Her blood was running like crazy – it didn't feel like her heart was beating so much as her whole body was. In the tearing wind, wispy tendrils of hair were falling free of their braid to cling to her face. Regina was completely breathless, air stolen from her lungs by the hard ride and the prospect of everything she'd dreamed. _Not long now._

"Just a few more hours," She managed, gripping the reins as hard as she could. The words echoed around her mind, infected her, coursed through her bloodstream. _Just a few more hours._

Whether it was hours or seconds or years she couldn't have said, but the moon was still up when the faint orange lights of the dock appeared on the horizon. Regina's heart thudded as she craned for a more definitive glimpse, breath tangled up around her ribs. Scrambling to spur Rocinante on, she searched the growing collection of lights. Hysterical determination was spiking through her veins. _I've done it. I've done it, and I never have to go back there again_. After the lights appeared, it couldn't have been more than half an hour before the dirt road turned to a proper path beneath the horse's hooves, and she slowed to a walk.

Heartbeat roaring in her ears, Regina loosened her manic grasp on Rocinante's reins, trying to look around without being too obvious. As the sounds of people shouting and rough-voiced conversations on the air, she stiffened with caution. _Now comes the dangerous part_. She steeled herself.

There was a warmth in the salty air now, the distant shouts of rowdy men and women inside the buildings, of sailors loading cargo by the waterfront. The road narrowed to a gravel path, branching off in all different directs as the buildings rose up, crude and strong and wooden, either side of her. They seemed to jostle for space, crammed up against each other, too narrow and then too wide. She'd never been anywhere so... _peasant_ before. She never imagined it smelling so much of fish. Regina tried not to grimace. Torches burned in sconces at regular intervals: whole place seemed bathed in a smudged auburn glow. It glanced off the ocean, shifting like a living, breathing creature.

Regina swung her leg over Rocinante's back, dropping softly to the ground. Reins still in hand, she glanced between the buildings cautiously as she walked him through the narrow street. She gave a lingering look to a man in a naval uniform slumped outside a brewery, apparently unconscious, and then hurried past, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. She forced her head down, carrying on until she reached the waterfront.

The sea lapped gently against the stone and wood of the dock, shimmering in the light of the moon and the torches. Disbelief was mounting in her – but so was determination. She'd made it this far. She refused to fall at the final hurdle. Regina cast a look over the boats, skinny barges and hulking trading galleys, rocking in their lots, flags and sails rippling in the cool night air. She turned around, scanning the street. She assumed the inns right along the port would be where the best sailors were staying. So Regina drew in a breath and headed towards the first one her eyes settled on.

Muddy yellow light flooded from the windows and open doorway, raucous chatter of a dozen different conversations drowning out a distant, untuned lute playing somewhere inside. "You, lass," A voice snapped. Regina stared over sharply – a man was frowning in the doorway, cutting off the rectangle of light. He wiped his hands on his grimy apron. Regina tried not to wrinkle her nose. "You in or out?"

"Do you have anywhere to stable a horse?" Regina asked, forcing her voice to stay flat and impassive.

The man's brow furrowed as he stood there, studying her for a moment. Eventually he nodded. "'Round back. Rat'll take him for you –" He twisted to shout into the building. "Rat!" After a moment, a boy skidded to a breathless stop in the doorway, pulling a face as he waited for instructions. The first man nodded. "Take the lady's horse down to the stables, sharpish. And you'll be coming back immediately this time, mind."

"Yessir." The boy darted forward toward Regina, holding out his hands for the reins. _I suppose this is it, then_. Regina turned to her horse, reins still in her clammy hands, a hard feeling unfurling in her chest. She'd known when she set off – when she ran – that she'd be saying goodbye to everything. The meagre good with all the bad. Her home. Daddy. Rocinante. _Thank you_. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, running her fingertips over the horse's warm neck one last time before shaking her doubt away and handing the leather over to the boy. She watched him go.

"Now," The man fixed his dull grey stare on her again. "Will you be wanting a room?"

Regina breathed in, raised her chin and focused resolutely on the future. She walked closer, until the warmth spilling from the doorway touched her skin and she could smell the ale inside. Triumph was welling in her. "Not if tonight goes according to plan."

Inside, the common room was crowded and noisy, the air hot and thick. Regina wormed her way cautiously through the crammed tables, laughing men, arguments heating up. The stink of beer and onions and sweat seemed to settle on everything like dust. She found an empty seat at the bar, taking it self-consciously, glancing around. Her heart was racing erratically in her chest, heat crawling up her neck. It was the first time she'd ever been anywhere so... _common_. Regina swallowed, shaking the thought away. She had to stop thinking like a prince's daughter, like the fiancée of a king. That wasn't her anymore.

As of today, she had nothing more than any of these people... _except education, intelligence and basic hygiene._

Regina politely declined the barmaid's offer of ale, instead fishing in her small bag for a coin to exchange for bread and cheese. She ate quietly observing the people around her, trying to find someone to fit what she was looking for. When the Dark... when _he'd_ given her this idea, she thought it would be so simple. Take money and provisions, flee in the night, find the nearest dock, catch a ride to another land with a sailor and... And then she'd be free. In reality it was more difficult – and the bread was harder. She forced herself not to wrinkle her nose.

There was an older man sitting next to her, deep in conversation with a young lad. She hadn't been paying him much attention but the minute she caught the words _my old ship_ her heart leapt and she was sitting up straighter to eavesdrop. She finished her coarse supper and summoned her courage. Now or never. She tapped him cautiously on his meaty shoulder. "Excuse me?" The man twisted around in his seat, eyes flickering over her. His mouth was twisted in a grim line. Regina breathed in sharply, refusing to be intimidated by any of this. "You're a sailor? Are you setting off on a voyage any time soon?"

He grunted. "Who's asking?"

Regina's blood froze for a second. "Just a traveller." She paused, carefully thinking through what she could say. "I'm looking for passage to another land. Any, it doesn't matter which. I have enough coin to pay my way."

She stared at him intently, orange light of the inn reflected in his watery blue eyes. She could see him contemplating. His eyes swept over her one more time before he cleared his throat and asked, with resignation, "How much?"

Wasn't she supposed to barter? That was how it worked with these peasant folk, wasn't it? She couldn't exactly negotiate if he knew exactly what she had from the start, that was the whole point. Regina sighed, annoyed, still daring to hope. She opened her mouth, about to just say and hope for the best when a warm hand clamped down hard on her shoulder. "Forgive me for prying, love, but you don't want to sail with this old rat. He'll swindle you out of your money before you can say Neverland."

Regina jumped, turning to glare at the newcomer. He was leaning against the bar with a smirk on his face that she already hated, eyebrow cocked with the kind of arrogance she never liked in princes at balls, let alone peasant strangers in taverns. Not that he was a peasant – Regina studied him carefully, noting the rings glinting on his fingers, the jewels strung around his neck. _Too much leather_ , was her first thought, followed quickly by _too much kohl._ She cleared her throat, trying to sound like she knew what she was doing. "And who are you?"

"They call me Hook," He announced, turning to drop into a mock-bow. Regina stared. She could see why – the tatty lace cuff on his left sleeve dangled not around a hand, but a curving metal hook. It took a lot not to scoff. _I do not want to be involved with anyone who names themselves after their disability._ "Captain Hook, actually. Of the Jolly Roger." He flashed a smile, all teeth and stubble. "You may have heard of me."

Regina raised her eyebrows. She was hardly excited about the prospect of spending the next few days in this man's company, but she wasn't exactly in a position to be picky. "And you're offering to take me?"

"I never said that, love." Hook shot the first man a withering look. "Only that this scoundrel isn't worth your time. I've already got a trading galley with my Jolly Roger to look after, until I can find somewhere to stow it. Bloody Bluebird was more trouble than it was worth."

"Okay," She drew in a breath, sighed. _God give me the strength_. "Would you take me with you?" Regina paused, before launching into her whole speech and complete lack of an dignity. "You can drop me off at the first place you're stopping, it doesn't matter to me. I just need to get away. I can pay you, and –"

"Hook! Hook!" Regina spun around to stare at the same time as Hook. From a back doorway she hadn't noticed before, a portly little man in a red hat tearing between the tables, huffing, scarlet-faced. Hook seemed to straighten up, more alert. _Like a dog hearing his name called._ The man stumbled to a stop by them, breathless. "Blackbeard. Outside." He gasped, sucking air in frantically, wheezing between his words. "Angry. He's coming. We have – to go –"

"Blackbeard?" Regina exclaimed. She stared from Hook to the newcomer, gaping. Neither explained, or even acknowledged he cry. _What is this?_ They were too busy exchanging their own meaningful, panicked glances. Her mind was buzzing, heart frantic inside her chest. Heat prickled across her face, anger and fear and confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm leaving. Now." Hook pushed through the bar chairs, wide eyes flashing. Then, as if as an afterthought, tossed a glance back at her. His shout was thick and rough, heavy with anger. "Are you coming or not?"

Regina's breath caught in her throat. She stared from Hook to the man in the red hat, the door she hadn't noticed. Her heart was racing, temples throbbing. Then she made a decision. She didn't really think too much about what would become the defining choice of her life – she just leapt from her chair and ran, worming through crammed tables and chairs, following the man's leather jacket out towards the dock, mind racing.

-0-

Her cabin was awash in the bright grey daylight. A slab of light crossed the crowded room to fall on the rough wooden boards, picking out all the swirling motes of dust hanging there. It was probably the only place she could relax; hung with a tapestry from Camelot, cluttered with jewels from Arendelle. Like most of the ship, the captain's cabin was filled with pieces of a dozen different cultures, souvenirs from a dozen different lands. The smell of old incense and cinnamon hung in the air. With the sound of the ocean rushing faintly all around, and the creaking of the old boat breaking waves, she could almost pretend everything was fine.

The captain was slouched in a plush chair, upholstered in purple Misthaven felt. Her chest felt heavy, and not just because she'd nearly emptied the bottle of rum clutched loosely in her fingers. She shifted, studiously scanning the sea chart in her lap. No use. She'd read the damn thing a thousand times anyway – there was nothing. Just a normal, useless map to nowhere. She sighed.

"Well, well, what's this, what's this?" A voice announced suddenly. The captain sighed heavier, annoyance tingling through her veins. A month ago, a week even, she'd have shouted at him, screamed, threatened him and meant it. A week ago, she had. Now she was just tired. One wrong lead too many. "The ruthless Captain Emma Swan, giving up?"

"I'll never give up." Emma warned, not looking at him. She was too used to the creature appearing suddenly on her ship by now. She shifted in her chair, raising her gaze to meet his. The Dark One stood in the centre of the room, stupid smug smile still fixed to his face. Her hands curled involuntarily into fists. "What do you want?" She demanded, nails digging into the skin of her palms.

Rumplestiltskin giggled. He looked no more human than the first time they'd met – she'd summoned him herself, she was such a stupid little kid – with his unnerving eyes and scaled skin, glinting when it caught the light. He took a step towards her desk, a clunky mahogany thing strewn with maps and charts, picking up a crystal paperweight and turning it absently between his fingers. "I don't want anything just yet, dearie. No, I'm just here to give you a warning."

"You've given me enough as it is!" Emma stared sharply over at him. She wished she didn't know him too well not to be shocked. She frowned, gaze flickering from him back down to the unhelpful lines of the chart in her lap. "I don't want anything from you."

"Well, that's unfortunate for you, because it's nearly here." He told her. Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Rumplestiltskin was grinning manically, eyes wide and sparkling with some kind of triumph. She had a bad feeling about this.

Emma's eyes tracked his, cautious. "What is?"

"Destiny, of course." The Dark One's lips twitched up into a parody of a smile.

A thick silence hung in the air for a moment.

"Yours or mine?" Emma challenged. _Or his._ She shook her loose blonde hair back from her face. The ship rocked slightly on a bigger wave. The sea was pretty calm today; it would be plain sailing all the way to their next wrong turn. She wanted to say something else, but the words caught on the lump in her throat and shrivelled up.

"Clever girl," Rumplestiltskin trilled, cocking his head. "Don't you think that all of our destinies are woven together? Tied up tight, like a fishing net." Emma didn't dignify him with an answer. She traced her finger lightly over the arm of her chair, focusing on keeping her breathing steady. "We're entwined, dearie. And today is the day another knot comes along to tangle with us."

"I don't –" Emma bit herself off, shaking her head. _Why the hell am I humouring this madman?_

"Oh, but you will, dearie." He nodded shortly, putting the crystal carefully back down on the desk. "Because today will... _speed things up a bit_ , shall we say. You see, the girl will be here soon. You can't hope to move forward without her." Rumple spun on his heels, walking back towards Emma. "She has the gift; or should I say, brings out the gift. And I'll give you a spoiler –" He leaned closer, voice dropping to a mock-whisper. "It's not all for the boy."

"Don't talk about him!" Her voice rose with the anger, flashing through her blood. Emma didn't care if any of the crew heard – let them. Her stubby fingernails bit deeper into her palms.

"Temper, temper." Rumplestiltskin chided, smiling. "The charts you want are on the Bluebird, by the way. With the one-handed cockroach. Two knots north."

And with that, he vanished.

Emma's heart leapt. She knew better than to trust the imp by now, and yet... Mind racing, she jumped up from her chair, grabbing the brass spyglass from her desk and tearing out of her cabin, up the groaning wooden stairs two at a time. Emma broke out into the pale glaring sunlight, breathing in the tearing wind and the smell of salt.

All around her, men were rushing back and forth, shouting, talking, calling greetings to their captain. The blue-grey sky unfurled endlessly above her. Her hair whipped across her face, the wind stung her cheeks, the sound of the ocean spreading out in all directions was everywhere. She exhaled slowly, feeling her blood relax in her veins. She could feel a small smile twitch at the corners of her mouth despite herself – home. It gave her strength.

Emma hastened towards the bow, hair whipping around her, clothes rippling with cold fresh air. She nodded to several men as she passed without thinking. Her mind was buzzing. The Bluebird – stupid name for a ship, but what could you expect from a royal trading galley? Monarchs never knew how to have fun – God. She'd been after it for weeks, spent so much time chasing around its tail like an idiot. It was just like Hook to find it before her, though what he wanted with it she couldn't say. _More sparkly things to make him look pretty._

She _needed_ those maps. Those charts on board, she _had_ to have them. The freezing air stung her skin, more invigorating than anything. Emma felt a smile crawling across her face. Maybe today was the day she finally got to run the one-handed bastard through. She raised the spyglass to her eye, staring through the scratched lens with her breath caught in her lungs. Seething, shimmering water spread out all around. This far from any ports or cities, the sea was more blue than green. The sense of endlessness, of true freedom was never any less astounding to her. The ocean nestled against the horizon, where the dripping red sun skulked behind the clouds. And sure enough, stark against the horizon, the outlines of two ships. A bigger one – the Jolly Roger – and beside it... Emma's heart sped up against her chest. "The Bluebird," She whispered, skin beginning to spark with live-wire anticipation.

Today was the day she'd finally have the charts. Triumph spread through her chest as the grin crept across her face. Of course she would. She was Captain Emma Swan.

She smirked, brass spyglass falling to her side. She raised her head against the tearing wind, striding back towards the wheel. "Set course due north! Free the canvas." Emma shouted. Her men stared up, squinting in the light. Her heart was beating steadily, strong and certain as the first day she'd walked across this deck as captain. The wind raised her voice high and tossed it away. "Today's the day we get back in the game."

 _Destiny_ , she thought scathingly. _Bullshit. This is piracy._


	2. Collision

**A/N -** And so our ladies meet. Regina would just really like to know WHAT IS GOING ON. I'm posting this now, and probably the next chapter as well.

 **1\. Collision**

There was something wrong.

Regina could tell the moment she stepped out onto the deck, the first morning of her new life. Or rather, the transitional phase. The chrysalis. She could tell because despite whatever else it might have left her with, growing up with her mother had given her an instinct she could usually trust. There was a feeling in the air, a heaviness settling over the world like dust. As if the world was holding its breath. Something was about the happen. She gripped the wooden railing until her knuckles turned white, watching the endless ocean shift around her.

Of course, then Captain Hook strode over to the man with the red hat - Smee, she'd learned - nearby her on the deck, clenching his jaw too much and grimacing to announce, "We have a problem."

That was the second sign, really.

They were on the foredeck of the Bluebird – a trading galley Hook's crew had captured recently. Regina didn't know why. Nobody wanted to answer her questions. All she knew was that once they'd scrambled to the boats was that Hook told her to stay on the Bluebird. After she caught a glimpse of the crew on the Jolly Roger, she wasn't complaining – which was mostly abandoned. Smee had been left to steer (that wasn't the right word. Regina didn't know anything about... boat talk) and that was it.

Regina could see some kind of commotion going on aboard the Jolly Roger, men shouting and running around, shadowed figures on the rigging like monkeys, silhouetted against the cloud-spat blue sky. The sails, bellied full of air, seemed too big to be real. Not that any of this seemed real.

The unsettled feeling in her stomach doubled as Hook and Smee's voices grew. The overwhelming tingle of freedom in her dancing blood, her golden lungs hadn't faded – it had just made room for discomfort. Regina swallowed, squinting through the handfuls of dark hair the wind to tossed across her face. It was cold out here. The frigid air made her shiver and stiffen as it washed over her skin, tore at her clothes and hair. She'd been wearing the same dress for the last few days. She was surrounded by pirates of all people, unwashed, uneducated criminals who could quite easily rape her and kill her and steal all her gold. And now, apparently, there was something else wrong.

"What is going on?" Regina demanded, glancing sharply between Hook and Smee. She frowned, glance darting between them in the wind as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

"Pirates." Hook told her, without looking. The breeze brushed through his short black hair and his leather coat; his eyes were hard beneath his furrowed brow as he spoke to his second mate, ocean reflected in his stare.

"I'm confused." Regina frowned. "Aren't you pirates?"

Hook shook his head dismissively. "Different pirates."

"Different pirates." Regina repeated, in disbelief. To herself, of course. It wasn't like anybody was listening to her. _Of course. Just what I need. More pirates._ She hadn't even wanted the _first_ pirates. It wasn't her fault she hadn't known before she ran out after them at the docks, terrified of not getting another change, tangled up in adrenaline. And when she saw the flag, emblazoned with the crossed bones of piracy, already on deck, surrounded, she could hardly escape anywhere. Nobody took her seriously when she demanded they take her back to the shore. _God_. This whole situation was so ridiculous, she almost laughed.

"It's not the Jolly Roger Swan's after." Hook stated grimly. "There's something on here they want, some old map. I don't know. Just don't be an idiot, Smee?"

Smee nodded. Regina's jaw tightened, glancing between the two men. Her heart crashed around in her chest like a caged bird. "What about me?"

Hook stared. He looked at her scathingly, like he'd just noticed she was still there. Or like the idea he'd thought of her part in all of this was ridiculous. Regina glared at him. "I don't know, love. Somehow I don't think Swan's penchant for pretty girls is going to help you here. Just make yourself scarce."

-0-

"Alaric!" The wind tossed Emma's shout high into the grey air and snatched it away. Across the chaos, she caught her first mate's eye. "Take the starboard with Matteo and the rest!" A breathless smile played over her lips. "Gut the bitch."

Emma whirled just in time to raise her cutlass, glinting steel blocking some deckhand's clumsy uppercut with a deafening clangour. She flashed a grin when his panicked eyes darted up to meet hers, before dancing back to summon all her strength and slash across his chest. The boy yelped, raising his sword to block at the last minute – too late. It flew from his grasp, clattering against the rough deck. His wide stare met Emma's again.

All around her the deck of the Bluebird, shifting gently on the surface of an endless ocean, rang to the violent symphony of battle. Her grapples, their grapples glinted together in the sunlight. Men were shouting, coarse voices breaking, grunts and gasps swelling in the cold sea air. The metallic screech of steel clashing with steel grew ever louder, and Emma could hear her own ragged breathing in her roaring ears. Her heart was beating wildly, like some deranged animal in its bone cage, her blood was searing in her veins, wind abrasive an cruel against her skin. Her tangled blonde hair stuck to her neck with sweat, whipped to a frenzy by the wind. The cutlass hilt in her hand was worn and rough.

And Emma loved it.

She never felt so alive as she did in fights like these. With the salt wind in her lungs, and the adrenaline of battle coursing through her bloodstream, she could almost glimpse happiness again. That sounded dumb. Screwed up, like her. But what could she do? _The heart wants what the heart wants. I am a pirate after all._

Before she could do something stupid, Emma raised her free fist and channelled all her frenetic, zinging energy into slamming it into the boy's face. She spun around before he crumpled, long coat and the ragged ends of her hair lifting in the breeze, jogging through the madness. Her narrow leather boots thudded against the deck. All around men were locked in combat, swords ringing, blood spilling.

Emma skidded to a stop near the mast, pulse hammering as she searched. She felt her brow furrow, breath caught in her throat. Her stare scanned the fighting, desperate for something, something. There had to be something, she hadn't gone to all this trouble, caused all this pain for – "Swan."

 _Ugh_.

She whipped around, every cell on edge. _Why now?_ Captain Hook, half smirking in front of her, leather coat stirring in the wind. Sighing, she felt her frown deepen. Emma could have rolled her eyes, or screamed in frustration. She did not need this whiny fool in her way now. Clenching her jaw, she reached again for her cutlass, drawing it out with a metallic scrape. It caught the sunlight, flashing gold. "Jones."

"Charming, as usual," Hook cocked an eyebrow.

Emma breathed in the frigid salty air, taking a moment before gathering her willpower and lunging at the moron. He hurried forward to parry, and their blades crossed in the cold pale sunlight. She grunted in exertion, moving fast to meet his every slash. Her muscles were on fire, but in the best away, alive and racing. She darted sideways suddenly, leaving his blade to cut through thin air, before spinning on him and letting her muscles do the rest, hacking hard and fast. Satisfaction bubbled through her chest as she watched the arrogance drop from his eyes with every blow.

As the slant of the deck gave a sudden lurch beneath their feet, Hook stumbled backwards. Triumph welled in her chest. She hammered further, slashing and spinning until he fell back against the deck with a thump. She could see the breath was smacked from his lungs as he lay there, wincing. She hurried to kick his cutlass out of reach. Emma let a faint smile cross her lips. The ocean was on her side.

She stepped forwards, laying the point of her blade over his beating heart. Unevenly sucking air back into her lungs, strands of her floating around her face, Emma pushed under the felt the metal pierce his shirt, prick into his skin. She stayed like that for a moment, waiting for her heart to calm down and her breath to come back, relishing victory and listening to the circling gulls cry overhead. She leaned forwards, looking down at his stubbled face, contorted in pain.

Crackling frenetic energy zinged back and forth in Emma's body, sparking off her bones. "Yield," She managed. Her voice was breathless and rough in her ears. "Yield the Bluebird to me and I'll let you live."

She wasn't lying. Emma might have been a pirate but she wasn't one of his scum ilk. She existed to fight injustice, a violent strike against capitalism and injustice. She killed the brainwashed lackeys that served the good for nothing monarchy. She robbed from them and those who worked for them. She killed when she had to. She killed for her family, her home. Other pirates... Even rivals she despised as much as this worm – she wouldn't kill them unless she had to. She didn't need to. Not a soul knew her reasons but she was still called the most notorious pirate on the high seas.

"Wha –" Hook gasped, twisting under Emma's sword. "What do you want on here so bad – anyway – what's worth –"

"It's no business of yours!" Emma's voice rose against the wind, point of her sword pressing further into his skin. A small red flower was beginning to bloom across his shirt. "Yield to me!"

His eyes found hers with a look of absolute loathing. "Fine," He spat. "I yield."

A slow smile crawled over Emma's lips, warmth spilling through her chest. Another victory. Another hard earned spoil. And maybe – she dared to hope – just maybe she was one small step closer to everything she needed.

-0-

In the dust-choked dark, Regina could hear her breathing in her ears.

Amongst other things. Crouched against one of the rotting barrels, she had never been so acutely aware of her own heartbeat before. Well. That wasn't exactly true. She didn't know where she was. Some storeroom stowed deep below deck, she assumed. It was entirely still; not even the air dared tremble. Regina didn't like it.

 _What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

Though there were no lights, sunlight seeped through the wood, thin fingers of muddy light prying between the planks and falling softly against the softly shifting floor. Where they touched lit up the swirling dust motes. Dust was everywhere – settling, filmy, on ever surface. It gave the world a quiet, muffled quality. Erased the hard edges. It made Regina antsy: her whole life had been hard edges. She didn't know what to do without them. The still air was stagnant and warm, thick, stifling. The deafening stillness wrapped thickly around everything. It was like the room was sealed off, a perfect bubble. Petals preserved between the pages of time. There were dozens of the barrels down here, neatly stood in rows. She'd tried counting them for something to do, but then there had been a shout above deck like someone dying, and she'd lost count.

She could hear everything. Faintly – the sounds were murky and distorted, like she was listening from underwater, or a dream. To be honest, if this was a dream she wouldn't be surprised. The noises trickled through the splintering wooden boards of the ship, dripping through the cracks, filling up her still silent hideaway. Men shouting in harsh, panicked voices. The metallic clang of steel on steel. Heavy footsteps above Regina's head. Occasionally there was a thump, and a spill of dust fell from above.

Regina could feel her heartbeat in her temples. Her breath seemed far too loud. She tried to hold it, staying perfectly still with her fingertips brushing over the rough wood of the barrels. How much time passed like that she didn't know, hiding in the charcoal shadows and faded light and dust, listening to the fighting above. _What the hell am I doing here?_ Just a few days ago she was lying in her warm, comfortable bed in her family manor on her family estate, waiting for the maids to bring in her bath. Could that be right?

She'd thought her life would go a lot of ways, but crouching in the shadows of a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean waiting for a battle to finish was not one of them.

What the hell was she doing? She'd counted on a simple journey to a new land where nobody knew her. She had _not_ banked on pirate attacks and mutiny getting in the way. Her mind was racing with her bloodstream. And what the hell was she going to do if Hook lost? She hadn't even considered – suddenly her heart was speeding up against her ribs, blood icing over in her flaming veins. Then Regina realized something, and almost jumped out of her skin.

Footsteps. The footsteps were getting louder.

"Damn it," She swore softly, gaze darting frantically from the low boarded ceiling to the storeroom door. No way out. Even if there was, she was in the middle of the damn ocean. Regina scrambled to her feet, stupid dress tangling around her ankles. She was cornered. Like a rabbit in a trap, like –

The door opened.

Regina flinched as the heavy wood clattered open on whining hinges. Heavy footsteps thundering through. The steps down from the door creaking. Breathing. A stream of rough conversation suddenly coming to a stop. She breathed in sharply, stare glued to the shifting floor. Icy heat flooded her neck as she swallowed around the lump of fear lodged in her throat. She could feel eyes on her, standing there like a caught deer in her ragged old dress. She breathed in again, summoning all the courage she could and stepped from the shadows into the dusty light. Willing herself to be brave, Regina's gaze flickered up to the new arrivals.

Her breath caught in her throat.

This was definitely not Hook, and definitely not Hook's crew. Regina frowned. She could feel the furrow between her brows, stare roving over the new entry. There were a few men, dressed in mismatched clothes and stolen jewellery, but they were not gathered around a man.

Beneath a weathered hat, a spill of tangled blonde curls caught the dim light as they fell over the lapels of a long red coat, caught in the ties of a blood-speckled linen shirt. No, this pirate, this captain was, quite clearly, a woman. There couldn't have been much difference in age between them. Regina stared. The captain was staring back at her with hard eyes the colour of the ocean, tracking Regina from head to toe, features curved into a frown.

Could this be... _Swan_?

They stayed like that, startled, staring at one another amidst the dusty light and rotting barrels for a long time as the rusty gears clicked into place in Regina's mind. Her insides lurched and roiled like the sea around them, the creaking floor beneath them. Swan, Hook had said. Swan. And suddenly she was remembering stories, tales, angry knights at boring balls. Regina's breath caught in her throat as she realised exactly where the hell she was. Cornered, in a tiny dark storeroom in the middle of the sea, and staring at none other than the infamous pirate captain, Emma Swan.

 _Well_ , Regina thought, unhelpfully, _my day just keeps getting better and better._


	3. Tangled Stars

**A/N -** And so begins a winding and epic tale of sassy pirate banter. Considering renaming this Regina Is Done With Pirates And Emma Is Done With Regina. Posting this now because fuck it, it's great and y'all need to hear some dialogue now.

Also, if anyone seems OOC it's because as always, I've played around with characterisation so it suits the AU and their pasts in this AU. Hope that makes sense!

 **2\. Tangled Stars**

Back on the familiar deck of her own ship, Emma took a moment to close her eyes and feel her pulse slow with the chilly sea air rushing over her skin. The instant she stepped foot on the rough boards of The Saviour, her heart seemed to relax in her chest like a sigh, like coming home. _Huh_. The smell of the old wood, the sound of the billowing canvas sails cracking in the wind were all as familiar as her own breathing. Light grey air spun all around her, lifting the ratty ends of her hair off her shoulders and carrying the invigorating, familiar scents of salt spray and seagulls. It was comforting, she thought, coming back to a place she'd fought hard and earned, a place she knew better than the back of her hand – particularly after a fight.

Something snapped her from her trance. Somebody was talking to her. Emma blinked, shaking her hair back from her face. The sea, rippling out flat and uninterrupted in all directions, was a deep cobalt, the thinly spread sky above pale grey. Her men were hurrying around the deck like ants, laden with spoils from the Bluebird, rough voices joking and laughing in the flat blue sky.

She might have only cared about the maps, but that ship had been a successful trading galley. It was full of riches – should keep her crew happy enough to stand by her madcap quest a while longer. Alaric was standing in front of her, insistent. Like he'd just asked a question. Emma breathed in, shaking off her trance. "What was that?" Her throat was rough from the wind and the cold, voice harsh and thick in front of her.

"The prisoners, Captain." Her mate repeated. "From Hook's crew. What do you want done with them?"

Emma swallowed, frowning as she considered. She had wanted to get back to her cabin with the new Bluebird charts and get to deciphering, but she really did need to talk to those men. Best get it done with – the sooner she could forget about the one-handed mongrel the better. With a heavy sigh, she made her decision. "Bring them to me. They'll have to be questioned one at a time. Get it over with, I say."

"'Course." Alaric nodded, turning around to shout across the white-lit deck. "Ivan! Cap wants the prisoners! Now!"

There was a shout of acknowledgement from across the deck, before Ivan returned with the prisoners. Pretty much all of Hook's crew had managed to amass back on the deck of the Jolly Roger before Emma took the Bluebird, but she'd managed to take two of his crew, nobody she recognized. It probably wouldn't amount to anything but she needed to know for certain that Hook hadn't being going after the Bluebird for a reason. For the charts. For _her_ charts. She had to _know_ nobody else knew why.

The thought unsettled her. Emma felt her brows knit, turning her gaze down on the even wooden boards beneath her feet. _No_. Nobody could know. Nobody who wasn't crew, family, who she didn't trust with her life. _With his_. Her breath congealed in her lungs, blood grating against bone uncomfortably. With the wind rushing over her skin, she could feel every beat of her heart, heavy and purposeful in her tight chest. She swallowed around the lump of inhibition in her throat, shaking messy blonde hair from her face. That was a problem she'd deal with when it came to it. She probably wouldn't even need to. Hook was about as smart as a bag of dead worms: his crew – her prisoners now – can't have been much better.

She heard them before she saw them. Or rather, heard the girl before she saw them.

Emma sighed, breathing in her strength and turning to face her new charges. Ivan was a big guy, a smuggler originally from Arendelle bulging with muscle, and he'd managed to wrestle them into fettered submission, somehow. Well. Two of them. Because sure enough, while the two rig rats from the Jolly Roger were sullen and silent and glaring, the girl was most definitely not.

The captain narrowed her eyes at her through the glaring sunlight that sprayed over the horizon, the dancing grey breeze that send locks of blonde hair whipping around her face. They were coming closer to her over the uneven deck of the ship, framed by the endlessness of sky and sea. Emma couldn't make out the girl's face, hidden by thick handfuls of dark hair, stupid long skirts billowing and cracking around her legs. Though she didn't seem to physically struggling so badly, she was getting increasingly louder and louder. "Get off me," She kept snapping, voice low and harsh. "Get your hands off me, now. Don't – you filthy – unhand me now, pirate!"

A bizarre urge to laugh bubbled in her chest. Emma pushed it down, forced her mouth into a set line and raised her head against the wind to saunter across the deck to the mismatched trio. The girl visibly flinched when she approached, head jerking up to stare at her. Beneath crazily whipping hair, dark eyes shone accusingly, brows twisted in distaste. Emma frowned. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. In fact, it grated on her. _Fine_. She sighed, turning her gaze pointedly onto the two men.

Beneath their feet, the deck shifted slowly over a wave. She cleared her throat. "Either of you want to speak up now? Any reasons for going after that boat? Deep, dark secrets of the Jolly Roger?" Emma's gaze darted between the pair of them. Nothing but the gulls cawing overhead or the gentle song of the waves breaking against the Saviour's hull. And then, slowly, the one with the earring raised his shaved head, eyes full of hatred – and spat on the deck by her feet. Emma's gaze hardened. "Or not." She sighed. "Well, I'll get to you later. Until then, Ivan – take them below deck. Have someone keep an eye on them. Terrence, maybe."

As Ivan nodded, and followed her orders, Emma turned her attention onto the girl. Woman, really. They must have been close in age. For the first time, she looked at her properly, noting every detail. Emma studied her carefully. She was just slightly shorter than the captain, dark hair thrown around her face in the breeze. Emma cleared her throat, running her gaze up to find hers. "And you?"

"What?" The woman stared up at her, fierce brown eyes shining and hard in the sunlight. Her brow was furrowed, vein in her forehead standing out. With the ocean reflected in her stare, full lips tight, jaw clenched, her rigid posture, there was something almost... _familiar_ about her. She couldn't place it. The mud-spattered hem of her dress whipped around her ankles, long skirts ripping in the wind.

That was when it occurred to Emma that she was very beautiful. She pushed the thought from her mind, annoyed at herself. _What the hell, Emma? Not the time_. Emma raised her chin, letting the wind blast her hair back from her face. She sighed, eyebrows raised in query. "Well, you're clearly not crew so what are you, one of his whores?"

" _Excuse me_!" The woman exclaimed, dark eyes widening and flashing anger. Her voice was harsh and tight, loud enough to contest with the wind and the sea.

"Okay, you're not one of his whores!" Emma rushed. _I'm sorry for your over reaction?_ She grimaced awkwardly. "You one of his women who... aren't whores?"

"You despicable pirate," The woman spat, voice laced with venom.. "I'm nothing to do with prostitutes! And nothing, for that matter, belonging to him or any other man, I am –"

"Alright, you're not one of his whores!" Emma exclaimed. That was clear by now – which meant nothing else was. The more this woman spoke the more evident it became that she did not belong on board a pirate ship. She had the posture of a queen and she spoke like a princess. She breathed in sharply – one thing was obvious. Whoever she was, this lady was a long way from home. Emma clenched her jaw, thoughts darkening like a storm cloud. "So how about you come back to my cabin with me and explain what the hell you were doing on his ship." Her gaze flickered over the woman once again, her tightened jaw, defensive stance, bedraggled dark hair. "And tell me everything you know."

-0-

Regina's gaze darted around as frantically as she could without looking too obvious. She was trying to remember every detail of – wherever it was they were taking her – just in case the opportunity for escape arose. Breath catching in her throat, she focused on memorizing the twists and turns of the ugly creaking maze below decks. Which was easier said than done. All these dusty old storerooms looked the same, and they all smelled like sea. She grimaced.

Before she could even think about an escape route like all the good tragic heroines in the books in Daddy's library at home, the ridiculous captain woman stopped short in front of a door and finally let her go. Regina glared at her while she fished in her coat sleeve for a key. The captain didn't seem that bothered, even when she made her most indignant noise, just looking right past her and unlocking the door, pushing it open with a groan of rusty hinges.

Regina glanced inside, and then back to the captain, who was finally acknowledging her again. Her green eyes were wide and unreadable, trained on hers like she was trying to make a point, long blonde hair tangling over her shoulders. Regina didn't move. The captain made a show of rolling her eyes, yanking the door further open and gesturing towards the room, eyes never leaving hers. When she spoke, her voice was harsh and twinging with annoyance. "In."

Petty triumph welled in her chest as Regina folded her arms across her chest. She raised her chin defensively, refusing to drop the pirate's gaze. "No."

"Seriously? You're gonna fight me on this?" The blonde pressed, brows raised. Regina didn't say anything, raising her chin. The pirate huffed theatrically, mouth tightening. "In." And then with a rough shove to the small of her back, Regina was stumbling into the room.

"Hey!" She whipped her head around, staring scathingly. "Don't touch me, fiend."

"Yeah, whatever," The captain turned to shut the door behind her, lock clicking into place. The sound made Regina's heart speed up against her chest.

She swallowed, breathing in and looking around, taking in her surroundings for the first time. Despite the level, the room was brightly lit, shafts of soft grey daylight falling and stretching across the shifting wooden floor. There was a heavy mahogany desk at one end, strewn with papers and knick knacks. Regina frowned, scanning the plush purple chair, the wooden bed piled high with blankets. Her breath snagged somewhere in her ribs. She spun around, staring down the pirate captain squarely. "What the hell is this?"

"This is you telling me what you were doing on that ship, princess." The pirate – Emma, Swan, whatever – dropped the key on the desk and moved across the room. For a moment Regina thought she was coming towards her and her pulse quickened in her wrists, but all she did was turn and drop down into the purple chair. Regina watched as she shrugged off that hideous leather coat, reached to pour a thick glass tumbler with something thin and amber from a bottle resting on the small wooden table beside her.

"What are you doing?" Regina demanded warily. Her gaze flickered over the pirate's relaxed gait. A rectangle of light from the window fell across her face, lighting up her pale skin, picking out her eyelashes and catching on her blonde hair. Regina narrowed her eyes. "And don't call me that."

"Alright, firecracker, sit down and we can have a little talk." Emma nodded towards the other chair, green eyes annoyed and shadowed with a tiredness Regina didn't think could possibly be about her. _Well, should have thought of that before you became a pirate_. She folded her arms back across her chest, glancing down at the empty chair. She didn't move. Emma sighed, shifting forwards in her seat. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Don't tell me what to do," Regina enunciated, not meeting her eye as stalked forward and sat down tentatively on the edge of the chair. She could feel Emma's eyes on her. " _Pirate_."

"Yeah, okay," The pirate shifted in her chair again, leaning forward for a second tumbler, uncorking the bottle with her teeth. Regina frowned in distaste as she poured, the sound filling the room. Emma spat the cork into her hand and nudged the tumbler across the table. Only when her green eyes flickered up to meet hers did she realise she wanted _her_ to drink it. Regina stared scathingly at the little glass. Emma sighed theatrically, as if Regina was the one being unreasonable. Well, Regina wasn't the one going around kidnapping people. Emma raised her eyebrows, as if she'd read her thoughts. She cleared her throat. "You wanna tell me what you were doing on that ship?"

Regina glared. "I wasn't _doing_ anything!"

"I wasn't implying you were!" Emma said, exasperated. She swallowed and took a swig of her foul smelling drink. She set the glass down carefully, raising her head so that her eyes met Regina's and the grey light from the window spilled over her face. "I'm gonna be honest with you here, because I get the feeling you're really not letting anything slide. I _just_ want you to tell me why you were with Hook."

"Well, that's not my problem." Regina stated simply, watching Emma watch her. Where the daylight fell, it lit up the drifting motes of dust hanging in the thick air. Her voice sounded strange. She breathed in slowly, gaze flickering down to rest on her untouched drink, and then back up to the pirate captain. "I was just travelling with him."

"Just?" Emma raised her eyebrows, apparently unimpressed. "You realise most pirates aren't in the business of letting people _just_ travel with them, princess?"

"Yes." Regina muttered, irritated. She shifted in her chair. "But I was, so it doesn't matter now, does it?" The way the other woman was staring at her, like she was a problem that needed to be solved, was grating on her. All of this – this was _not_ what was supposed to have happened! She ought to be in a nice, faraway land by now, making her own life in freedom. Not sitting here in an ugly cabin across from an infuriating woman-pirate with a staring problem. Regina sat up straighter, eyes narrowing in frustration. "And for the record, my name is _Regina_! And quite frankly, pirate, I fail to see how my life is any of your business! So if you'd please grant me my basic human rights and allow me to leave this ugly hunk of wood as soon as possible, I'll be on my way."

"Okay, normal people don't talk like –" Emma cut herself off abruptly. She was looking at her strangely, brows drawing together suddenly. Her lips were slightly parted, her body alert in her hideous chair. Green eyes widened as something behind them fell into place. "Shit!"

"What?" Regina's stare jerked up, fresh flood of fear washing icy through her veins. She wanted to look away, duck her head and hide her face but she couldn't tear her eyes away from Emma's slow realisation, heart speeding up against her chest. It was like watching a disaster about to happen, or watching Mother coming towards her.

Eventually, gaping, Emma blinked in awe and delivered the death blow. "You're that girl – that's where I know you from!"

"No I'm not." Regina snapped hastily. She was trying to sound sure of herself but her voice sounded very brittle and desperate in her ears. Heat flooded her face. She swallowed, fighting to keep her low voice restrained. "You don't, I'm nobody."

"No, shit, you are." Emma's stare deepened. Her voice was thick with disbelief. "You're that king's lady. The king's bride, the future queen." She stared down at the floor, still gaping, blinking, obviously trying to calm her racing mind.

"No," Regina shook her head, white hot panic darting around her chest, like some frenzied caged bird. It was useless now but she couldn't, she wouldn't stop fighting for herself now. The lump in her throat was reforming, rising and choking her. She'd come so far, she'd come so far and now everything was crashing down around her.

Forcing herself to keep swallowing breaths of air, Regina finally brought herself to look back up at the damn pirate, wishing she didn't feel so much like a snared rabbit on the hunt. That wasn't her anymore, not now, she refused to be that. Emma was still staring at her, but her expression had a different confusion about it now. Regina's breath was tangled up in her ribs. The lines of the pirate's frown had deepened, wide eyes harder and softer at once. "Hey. You okay?"

"I'm not going back!" The panicky words tore from her constricted throat before she could think. They hung in the air for a moment, low and condemning. Regina watched Emma frowning, breathing still uneven in her lungs. She found her stare and gripped it tight, refusing to let go, trying to convey everything she'd never said to this strange savage without words. The heaviness in Emma's sea green eyes seemed to understand. It could have been a second or a century they stayed like that, staring and breathing with the light and the waltzing dust between them and the gentle sounds of the ocean against the creaking hull all around.

After an infinity, Emma swallowed. Regina could see the muscles in her neck working. And then the pirate captain breathed in, downturned mouth, shining eyes, long hair catching the light. When she spoke, her rough voice was gentle and sure. "Like hell you are." She found Regina's gaze again and Regina nodded. She'd rather tear her own heart out than admit it, but she was grateful beyond words. Then the pirate broke the moment to scowl and assume her normal ineffectual composure and add, "I don't help the monarchy, I'm a pirate. I steal their gold."

"And that's exactly why you'll end up rotting in a cell somewhere," Regina managed to parry, lightly. Her breath was becoming steady again. The message was clear: she wasn't about to ransom her back to the king, but she was still an insufferable unwashed criminal and that was certainly not going to change any time soon. " _Pirate_."

"Whatever, princess," The captain muttered again, not looking her in the eye. "If you're not going to drink that, let's get you a cabin to sit in while I figure out what the hell to do with you."

-0-

So apparently Emma had an almost queen on her ship.

Left in a tiny but rich stateroom she hadn't used for years, while Emma decided what to do. It wasn't exactly part of her plan. In fact, just from what she'd learned about Regina today, she was pretty sure it was only going to slow her down. Unhelpfully. But whatever else happened, however annoying and superior and spoiled and useless the brunette was, this was where she'd ended up. Emma wasn't a big believer in fate or destiny – all she believed was that she had a quest to carry on and a snobby little princess insisting on making everything difficult shut up in one of her cabins – but she was only human. Hell, she had too much crowded in her mind as it was.

She couldn't help replaying the Dark One's dark words over and over in her head. He'd been right about everything else, after all. What was it he'd said about the girl – _Regina?_ – and their intertwined fates? About her speeding things up? It had been too long since Emma's last lead. And beneath it all, running like a slow current was the one question she could never answer – _why would he help me when he was the one who ruined everything in the first place?_

It didn't matter. What mattered was she needed to look at those charts from the Bluebird. That was what was shooting through her buzzing mind when she pushed out above deck where the crew was gathered, drinking and laughing in the light of the setting sun. Emma was just thinking of her quest, her end goal while she strode through them and announced, to her own surprise, "Regina – that girl from Hook's ship – is in my charge now," Emma's voice was surer than she'd thought, salty wind weaving through her hair and over her skin. "She's none of your business. And you're all gonna leave her the hell alone while she's on board. Understood?"

After she'd heard a chorus of bemused agreement – and silently thanked the gods she didn't believe in that these men had such unwavering faith in her – Emma spun on her heels and hurried back down the creaking wooden steps below deck, breath jumping in her throat. She wove her way back towards the little stateroom she'd let the irritating princess stay in, skidding to a stop outside the door. She briefly considered that Regina would be more comfortable if she knocked, but Regina was an unbearable pretentious cow, so she just turned the doorknob and pushed right in.

"Well, princess," Emma began begrudgingly. "You'll be happy to know I –"

"I told you not to call me that and you have worse manners than a worm." Regina stated, voice dropping into upjumped disgust at the end of her sentence. She was sat on the edge of the pallet bed, spine ramrod straight, doing something with her tangled hair and pointedly not looking at her. Emma fought the urge to growl.

"And you have worse social skills than a dead rat," Emma countered, struggling to keep her voice from rising with the heat in her neck. Regina's head whipped to stare at her, dark hair still in her hands over her shoulder, pretty face twisted in anger, blush crawling over her cheeks. She opened her mouth, clearly about to attack her with another vicious stream of privileged nonsense. Emma cut her off before she could start. "But despite that I have decided to let you stay with us until we reach some poor unfortunate piece of land you think is worthy of you." She snapped. Then, listening to her words dissipate in the air, Emma swallowed and breathed in. "On one condition."

Regina stared up at her, shining dark eyes unreadable in the dim light of the cabin. "What?"

"Don't ask too many questions." Emma said, with a soft smirk she couldn't make sense of. And, wondering what would come next, she turned and walked from the room, forcing herself not to look back.


	4. Fate

**A/N ~** I was supposed to post yesterday but the bank holiday got in the way. Sorry! Also, thank you to everyone following this story. Not much Emma/Regina in this chapter but soon that's pretty much all there is, so hold out.

 **3\. Fate**

"Come on, come on!" Emma growled in frustration, slamming her hand down for the fifth time on her new charts. She sighed heavily, frowning and turning away for a second. Months. _Months_ she'd been after these damn maps! And now she had them she couldn't – they didn't even make _sense_.

It was barely even a proper map. Just jagged coordinates, blurred marks and a few lines of fancy scripted writing in some weird language. She turned back, hands braced on her desk, head aching as she scanned the parchment again and again until it all turned into an incoherent mass of lines. The next step was somewhere on that paper, but she couldn't see it. Hiding in plain sight. Mocking her.

"Damn it!" She sighed, staring out at the pale sunlight glancing off the shifting grey sea beyond her cabin window. _What aren't I seeing?_

Emma swallowed around the lump of anger in her throat, threatening to unravel into tears. God. _God._ She stepped away from the desk, letting her eyes close and breathing in slowly the wood-and-salt smell of her still, deserted cabin. Sometimes she just – she didn't know how all this had happened. How she'd let it, how she could have been so _stupid_. Her stubby fingernails bit deep into the palms of her hands. So stupid.

Emma opened her eyes, breathing in sharply with her soft frown resting on the sun-touched floorboards. Slowly, she moved back the desk, to the tiny drawer beneath it. She didn't even think about it. Her muscles had made the decision and they didn't need her brain's consent. Where the rectangle of sunlight from the window crossed over her skin was warm. Her fingers fumbled in the light beneath the desk for a moment before the drawer opened and they found the familiar rough parchment that made her lead heart sink through her insides as if they were water. They might as well have been, for all the good they did her.

She grabbed the half-empty bottle of rum off the table top before collapsing into the purple chair, all the strength draining from the marrow of her bones and the long breath that left her lips. She could feel the furrow between her brows, the dull ache between her ribs and behind her eyes that spoke of only one thing. Emma brought the scratched glass bottle to her lips, gulping down a mouthful and savouring the warshm burn in the back of her throat, her stomach. She never could look without alcohol. Heart heavy as a stone in her chest, Emma unfurled the parchment.

Her hard stare roved the scrap, snagging on the fading pencil lines. Emma breathed in, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment until the accusatory sting of tears behind her eyes faded. It did look like him, she'd give the artist that. She'd been sceptical at first, a ragged begging street artist at a seedy Arendelle market, but he'd pleaded with her and she might have been the most feared pirate captain on the high seas but when could she ever deny him anything?

It looked like him. Smudges and strokes of charcoal like the sunlight shining on his brown hair, his nose, the glimmer in his eyes, the gap-toothed smile that was always too big for his pale face. Emma swallowed, blinking back tears and anger, letting the paper curl back up in her lap.

 _I can't._

She swallowed another gulp of the rum, feeling the heat flood her cheeks before pushing herself up out of the chair. Sitting around moping wasn't going to get him back. She had to keep working, searching, finding some clue. After all, she was Captain _Emma_ _Swan_. Her eyes drifted back to the portrait for a second before darting away. She _never_ gave up.

She refused to let this be her fate.

-0-

Regina sighed, glaring at the space above the door for the hundredth time.

She'd been _shut up_ in here for nearly two days, probably – there wasn't a porthole, but she thought she was judging considerably well by the light in the cracks around the door – with nothing to do and nobody talking to her – not that she'd ever lower herself to wanting to talk to _pirates_ – and she didn't even know where she was or where she was going. The damn renegades could be taking her back to the king, for all she knew.

It didn't help that the vile stinking room was the same size as her wardrobe. Regina had spent hours (probably. Nobody bothered to put a clock in here) rifling through every drawer and searching every crevice. For what, she didn't know. For something to do. Anyway, there was nothing the slightest bit useful or interesting. Just a lot of old junk nobody wanted.

She had candles, and most of the time light leaked through around the door anyway so it wasn't dark, but it was small and stuffy and the floor kept shifting over the waves. Her bed was small and hard, the blankets had probably been well embroidered once but now they were threadbare and falling to pieces as well as stinking of salt. There was an ugly painting on the wall of a storm at sea, in a gaudy gilt frame. The whole place reeked of wood and mould and fish. _Honestly._

Regina didn't want to be queen but she still had standards.

There were some ugly ornaments on the little carved table by the bed, and she'd picked them up a dozen times looking for hollowed out places and secret messages but either she wasn't looking hard enough or all the books in Daddy's library were liars. She ended up sitting on the end of the bed, trying for the umpteenth time to do something with her hair – her windswept braid had deteriorated into some kind of salt-scented birds nest. _Ugh._ What with the dust and sweat and all, she didn't even want to think about what she looked like.

Not to mention the dress. The dress was a problem – she'd packed other clothes when she left, but they were all on Hook's ship with the rest of her worldly possessions. It hadn't been in the best state to begin with, worn from riding. It had rained for a few hours during her daring escape from home, so the hem was spattered with mud and dirt and the cloth smelled of mould. She'd torn it some running from Blackbeard with Hook's men, and after a few days without changing she was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

She wasn't some unwashed peasant woman in farming rags! Regina had barely gone a day of her life without a dress fitting or a new riding jacket or soap – she missed soap. She supposed pirates just used the _sea_. Like _fish_.

Regina huffed indignantly to the empty quiet room, pushing herself off the bed and smoothing back her hair as much as she could. Well, it didn't matter now. She'd tried. Without making the coherent decision, she rolled her shoulders back and went to the door, fairly certain it wasn't locked – she'd only heard the click of it shutting.

If she was going to he travelling on board this godforsaken lump of wood, she refused to be scared into staying in one tiny broom cupboard the whole time. She was Regina Mills. And after all, she needed new clothes. Emma decided to keep her on board, so she was just going to have to provide for her. It was only fair. Regina's hand closed around the doorknob, pushing warily. When the door creaked forwards her heart leapt with triumph. A small, victorious smile brushed across her face for a moment.

She pushed through the door before her better judgement could take over, letting it swing shut behind her. Regina thought she recognised the musty narrow walkway, so she came the way she was sure Emma had brought her, breath loud in her ears with the ever-present rush of the sea all around. She was just looking back and wondering how to get above deck, because she didn't see any steps – then she walked right into the pirate.

Regina's gaze jerked up to meet the much higher one of the man who was staring at her. Breath snared somewhere around her wild heartbeat, she tried to ignore the ice surging like the ocean in her veins. She kept looking at his eyes. She had to prove she wasn't afraid of him. He was tall, and corded with muscle, long ratty hair tied back under a patterned cloth, frown written across his stubbled features. Younger than she'd first thought, like Emma. Like most of the crew, in all honesty. She tried to find words but her mouth was suddenly dry.

The man moved closer, mouth downturned. "And where d'you think you're going?" His voice was coarse was rough – lowborn as they came, but he could clearly hold himself, and there was intelligence there too.

Regina wasn't afraid but there was a feeling of discomfort like cold water in her chest. Like being cornered. And suddenly, surrounded by dust and groaning wood and whispering waves and strange dim gold light, she didn't know what to do.

Bizarrely, her panicked mind was calling for Emma. The woman might have been a crude unwashed pirate but she was also the only reason Regina was here. She'd rather drown herself now than admit it, but she was relying on the captain's word to keep her safe. _Dear god. Is this what it's come to?_

"I was looking for the captain." Regina told him defensively. "I need new clothes."

He looked confused. Genuinely _confused_. Regina almost laughed at him then and there. _Is cleanliness such a foreign concept to these people?_ The pirate glanced down over her, frowning. "What's wrong with that?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong with that?" Regina retorted, fixing her stare on him. "It's filthy."

"What's going on?" A familiar voice asked.

Regina and the pirate man spun around to stare at the newcomer in unison. Regina wanted to sigh in relief and throw herself in the sea at once. She did neither; just stared distastefully instead. Captain Emma Swan was standing in the narrow hallway, framed with muddy gilt light that sprayed through the boards overhead, surrounded by swirling motes of dust. Her long blonde hair was loose over the shoulders of that godawful battered red coat, brows and mouth drawn into a frown. Her wide green eyes were hard and concerned as they darted between Regina and the pirates. The only answer was the soft lapping of the ocean against the hull. Regina cleared her throat. "Well it's about time!"

Emma's unaffected frown turned towards the pirate man, eyebrows lifted slightly. The light caught on her hair. "What?"

"Lady wants some new clothes, apparently." The man replied, and although he wasn't smiling she had the strangest sense she was being made fun of.

Regina scowled. "I hope you know it's rude to talk about someone as if they're not standing right in front of you!"

"Okay princess, whatever," Emma muttered, gaze jumping sideways back onto Regina, who straightened stubbornly under her annoyed, bemused stare. Where the light spilled down, the dust motes waltzed slowly in the thick salty air. "What, you want me fetch the tailor?"

Anger flashed through Regina's chest as she stared back towards the pirate captain. "You might be content to wander around stinking like a fishers market in summer but I'm used to better and quite frankly –"

"What the hell was that?" Emma demanded, voice low and urgent.

"Well that's rude," Regina snapped, glaring. Honestly! This uneducated primitive criminal, who did she think she was? She was practically an animal – Emma raised a hand, brows furrowed in annoyance, lips parted, and _shhh_ ed her sharply.

Regina pursed her lips, glaring incredulously from the captain to the man, who was staring up and the wooden planks overheard. For a moment everything was deathly still, with only the sounds of the creaking ship slicing through the seething sea. Then there was a bang, and slowly the chorus of shouting from above deck seeped down through the cracks. Emma whipped her head around, eyes shining. Her features were etched with seriousness. "Something's happening."

"Oh, for the love of god, what now?" Regina half demanded and half whined, shooting a look towards Emma. _I swear to every fairy godmother in the world, if this is more pirates I'm going to kill myself._

But it was too late. Emma had disappeared into full on captain mode. Nobody was going to bother answering her now. Or giving her clean clothes. Regina scowled, sighing heavily and staring between the two pirates. Emma was already moving back the way she came, eyes wide and urgent. "I'm going up now - Alaric, check on the prisoners from the Jolly Roger."

The pirate man – Alaric, presumably – nodded and turned, jogging off in the opposite direction. Emma was fumbling with the cutlass in a leather sheath at her waist, hurrying away. Regina stared, incredulous. "What about me?" She almost shouted. _And my clothes. Damn pirates._

Emma frowned distractedly, staring back over her shoulder. "Go back to your cabin,"

 _One day,_ Regina thought, sighing and stalked back down the walkway to her box, _I'm going to have that pirate arrested and it's going to be the happiest day of my life._


	5. High Tide

**A/N** ~ Just saying, I am not a naval expert. There are probably going to be some inaccuracies, so please just bear with me here. Once again, thanks to all of you reading!

 **4.** **High Tide**

"Damn it," Emma swore softly, squinting in the glare of the white sun.

She frowned, lowering her spyglass and craning for another glimpse of the ship. Small and fast, cutting through the endless blue plains of shifting sea that unfurled to the horizon in all directions. Grapples ready. With the salty wind in her face, tossing her hair around in the brisk air, the sunlight glinting off the heaving ocean, there was no mistake.

 _So this is what all the commotion's about._ She should have known that was going to come back to haunt her. Blowing the hair out of her mouth, Emma turned quickly, dropping from the crows nest to swing down from the rigging with her blood accelerating in her veins, heart thrashing. The thin soles of her narrow leather boots hit the deck softly.

"Wren, take this," Emma heard her voice rough in her ears, thick with command and laced with adrenaline. She handed the spyglass to the boy without looking, striding through her confused crew. Her crew had gathered thick as flies on the deck to see what was going on. Emma hurried towards the prow with her heart in her throat and the wind making her long coat flap and billow behind her. Her hair danced in the grey air.

She let her heart sink for a moment as she double checked from her new vantage point. No mistaking the damn boat. Then Emma let the adrenaline take over, drawing her cutlass with a metallic scrape and turning back to face her men. "Pike," She told them heavily. She didn't need to say anything else. They knew.

Hell, most of them had been with her when she mutinied Commander Pike's most expensive naval ship in her frantic search for clues. Most of them had been with her when the news reached that the king had discharged him from his naval office for the shame – and most of them seemed to be suddenly figuring out he might just want revenge for that. _Damn royal navy,_ Emma cursed internally, running back across to the poop deck to check their course. They never knew when to let it go. _Bet Regina probably loves them._

Emma tossed another windswept glance over her shoulder and across the sea. The boat was coming, and it was too late now to do anything about it. No, now they just had to focus on winning the fight. Rogue ex-navy officers were nothing compared to some of the things she'd dealt with. A small, slow smile crawled over her.

 _I may be crazy,_ Emma thought, _but at least it's in the job description._

-0-

Regina was bored. Again. And alone. As usual.

She wasn't entirely sure why she'd even gone back to her cabin when that damn blonde pirate told her to – especially without a change of clothes – but wasn't exactly crazy about investigating what that noise was, or why everyone had been shouting. Well. She tried.

She'd been sitting on her bed for about half an hour thinking up inventive ways to sell this whole damned crew over to the authorities when the shouts began to ring to an accompaniment of other noises. Other voices. Wood creaking, a metallic clangour she recognised from years of growing up around knights that made her stomach flip and her breath catch in her throat. Regina leapt to her feet, for some reason. And then, before her mind could catch up with her body and tell it that it was being stupid, Regina had pushed the door back open and started walking.

She wasn't exactly sure why. She was just damn tired of not knowing what was going on.

Regina followed the sounds, heart beating in her temples, peering anxiously around every corner with her breath caught in her throat. It didn't take long for her to reach some splintery wooden steps that groaned when she stood on them. Huffing, Regina pushed through the next door and let her feet carry her up the next set of stairs without thinking abut it, until she could see the glaring bright rectangle of sunlight overhead. The sounds, the shouting, something was wrong.

Heart speeding up against her chest and in her wrists, Regina drew in a sharp breath, mind whirring, and fisted her stupid, muddy, godawful skirts in her hands to hurry toward the deck. She felt her skin warm where the sun touched it. She frowned, confused and broke out into the sudden tearing wind ripping at her hair and dress – and then she was gasping, struggling to keep her balance as she darted backwards on the deck, heart dropped into her stomach as the man slashed at her again.

 _What the fuck_ – Regina gaped, back of her throat icy cold, blood crashing like mad in her boiling veins. All around, the fighting. She'd seen sparring, grown up hearing about the threat of war and battles but _this_ – the silvery grey sea was glinting in the harsh yellow sun all around, the deck shifting like crazy – this was something else entirely. Beside her, that Alaric man was grinning breathlessly as he danced around a second man, blades clashing loudly in the air. All around, people were locked in combat. A second ship, like a little navy courser without a flag rocked on the ocean beside the Saviour. Grapples lay across the deck. Shouts filled the air, grunts, metallic clangour.

Regina scrambled back, lungs still frantically grabbing at the cold sea air, staring incredulously at the man advancing towards her. The sun glanced glaringly off his blade, his clothes were ragged, retaining vestiges of splendour, and the hardness in his eyes told her that he would have no trouble killing her. "Don't." She heard herself saying, pointlessly.

He made a sound like an animal in the back of his throat and Regina threw herself backwards again, skirts tangling around her ankles like an anchor, heartbeat dizzying, everywhere. Two thoughts surfaced in her tangled mind as the advanced again. The first was, quit simply and calmly, _I am going to die._ The second, a little after, was _this is a terrible undignified way to die._

She forced herself to look at him, a bizarre compulsion to stare when he raised his blade, but then Regina flinched, and something very strange happened. There was a feeling, like adrenaline, like fear or excitement shooting through her like chemicals, amassing, that left her veins tingling and her heart fighting and then there was something like a hit of power rushing through her, and when she looked up the man had been knocked backwards across the deck as if he'd been thrown.

Regina gaped, confusion racing through her, but adrenaline diluted it. Everywhere around there was still fighting, blood, cutlasses and death. Reeling, she fell to the deck to yank a dagger from the belt of a dead man, and she didn't even have time to think about the feel of it in her hands before she could feel rough hands over her mouth, pulling her back and she lashed out, driving the short blade back until she could feel it sink through flesh. She yanked it free without looking, crying out from the force it took.

And then she was scrambling back toward the stairs to below deck, when the glint of hard sunlight on a birds nest of blonde hair caught her eye. Regina stopped sharply, breath ragged, turning back to stare through the chaos. Emma Swan was lying on her back on the deck, face contorted with pain and strain, somehow still keeping her assailant at bay with the old sword above her chest.

Before she'd even thought about what she was doing, Regina sighed as best she could given that she was mostly winded and in shock, took a moment to loathe herself and that damn pirate captain and all pirates in the whole damn world, for that matter, before summoning the willpower to turn around and make her way back across the deck. As much as she couldn't stand her, right now Emma Swan was the only thing standing in between her and a whole lot of bad fates she did not want to think about.

So, without any discernible plan in mind, Regina wove through the chaos toward the stupid, arrogant ass of a pirate captain and before she could think about what she was doing she was driving her dagger into the mans shoulder, flinching at the feel of the blade sinking through skin and muscle. The man cried out, swung around at her and Regina scrambled backwards, only thinking one thought – _I have stabbed two human beings in the last five minutes_ – wind tossing handfuls of her hair across her face. In a second, Emma had taken advantage of his momentary weakness, lunging up – Regina stared in horror, sure she was going to run him through until the last second, when Emma's fist suddenly met his face with a sickening crunch. He crumpled backwards onto the deck.

In the moment of stillness that followed, the reality of it all started catching up with her. Regina fell back against the deck, trying to suppress her breathing into some kind of order. The knife fell from her fingers to clatter against the planks. Then there was a hand being thrust in her face. Regina stared at it, and the pirate it was attached to.

"What the hell are you doing?" Emma was shouting, voice raw and strained. That jolted Regina from her trance – suddenly she was wide awake again, sitting on the deck of a pirate ship surrounded by dead men and men locked in combat, with the cold salty wind whipping her hair across her face and her heart pumping blood about a million miles a second.

Regina reached up to grab Emma's hand, letting her yank her to her feet. "I just –"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Emma yelled, breathless and incredulous, blonde hair tangling around her face. "Thank you for saving my life and everything, princess, but you need to get back below deck _now_!"

Regina nodded, following Emma's drawn cutlass through the fighting. It was only when she was back on the bunk in her stateroom, listening to the sounds above her head, that Regina thought about the _thing_ that had happened when the first man attacked her. She hadn't even touched him and he'd – for some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about the night she left. Before, when she'd decided to leave. When she'd asked for his help, and he told her about the docks. He'd said something about destiny, and fishing nets and something about a gift but... Could this be it? Could that have been... Regina swallowed. Why could nothing ever just be simple?

-0-

Emma took a breath, frowning slightly at the closed door in front of her. The adrenaline of the battle had faded away, leaving the crew in a triumphant lull. They'd won. Of course they'd won. Pike was dead, and all his men too. For a pirate, she didn't like killing more than she had to, but it had been necessary.

The early spring warmth soaked through the deck and dripped in yellow sprays of light through the gaps in the planking. It was thawing. And now there was just one more loose end to tie up today. Emma shifted on her feet, adjusting the carefully folded pile of clothes in her arms. She wasn't sure why, but opening that door took a lot of effort.

She sighed, summoning the strength to shoulder the door open with a groan of rusty hinges and shouldering through into the little stateroom. Inside, the energy shifted. The heaviness in the air crept into her chest. The room was creaking and rocking on the sea. Regina stood up to face her once the door opened, arms folded across her chest defensively, dark hair smoothed into order.

"Hey," Emma called, pushing through layers of annoyance to begrudgingly do what was right. She stepped away from the door the door, turning the pile of clothes in her hands for something to do. The light inside was muddy yellow and full of dust. The ocean all around them seemed the only sound.

"Hey," Regina replied, scathingly. Emma studied her quickly, noting the defensive distaste curling at her lips, the glint of confusion in her dark eyes.

"You okay?" Emma asked.

"I'm fine." Regina looked fazed by the question; it put a strange feeling in Emma's chest. She frowned to herself for a moment, shaking her head and pushing the feeling away to turn around and shut the door gently behind her.

"Brought you some clothes," Emma took a few measured steps into the room, lifting the folded pile in her arms slightly. "All clean. It's mostly just my old stuff, but there's a few dresses and things we found on a trading boat while ago. Thought you might like them."

Regina's stare flickered from Emma to the folded clothes in her hands cautiously. Emma watched her swallow, gaze softening before she nodded. "Thank you." Her voice was clipped with icy politeness.

"You got a moment?" Emma asked, the sound of her own voice strange and familiar in the thick dusty light. There were les hard edges to her words than usual. It was stupid, really – all Regina had was moments, but she felt like she had to ask anyway. Princess was probably more comfortable around nonsense manners. Regina stared at her like she was stupid. _Maybe not._ She sighed, cleared her throat. "Sit down. I wanna talk for a minute."

Regina squinted at her, as if she was trying to decide something. Whatever she decided, it can't have been that bad because she sat down on the end of the bed, looking at Emma strangely. Emma ignored it, placing the pile of clothes down on the table and sitting down on the bed beside her. She cleared her throat again, breathing in and staring straight ahead at the splintering wooden wall, watching the room rock gently over the waves, and the dusty yellowish light spray down between the boards overheard. The sound of the sea all around calmed her.

"You proved yourself today." Emma said, words hanging marooned in the thick air for a moment. "So if you decide you want to stay here, nobody's going to object."

"Why would I stay with you, pirate?" Regina snapped, voice sharp and defensive. Maybe she thought she could turn everything back out onto the world – Emma had been there – but her tone seemed more like a window than a mirror. It gave Emma that weird feeling again. For just a moment, she glimpsed something other than the spoilt, selfish, rude princess who had stumbled onto her ship.

"Because you have nowhere else to go." She paused. That had come out wrong. "Look," Emma turned her head sideways just enough to softly catch Regina's gaze, drawing in a breath before she started speaking. "I don't know why you were running away. I don't know what you couldn't face back there. But I think I do know why, after everything, you haven't turned back. Because you didn't have a place." Regina was holding her gaze with gentle insistence, brown eyes shining, dark hair catching the dusty gold light of the creaking cabin. Emma felt a small honest smile creep over her. "Well, welcome to the Saviour."

"Alaric was a Misthaven peasant. His dad was a drunk and a debtor, who started beating him before he could walk. He took off one night and was working as a sellsword when I found him. Wren was an orphan sent off to war before he hit puberty. Sal was the youngest son of a knight, until his family were all killed in a blood feud and his home burned down. He wandered as a pickpocket for a few years before we met. You'll have to earn your place but... I don't care where you came from. On this ship, it doesn't matter who you were. Only what _you_ _choose_ to be next. You didn't have a place. But now, for as long as you need, your place is here."

Regina smiled softly. "That all sounds a bit happy families for a pirate ship."

Emma matched her smile easily, gaze caught on hers. "We also mutineer people." She paused, running her eyes over Regina's expression. "But mostly, you know, we're a family." The implications dripped down the space between them.

"And what about you?" Regina asked suddenly, voice soft and sure. Emma stared at her. Her dark eyes were shining in the musty gilt light, insistent and unflinching. A thousand shades of the earth. "What about you, Emma Swan, notorious pirate captain and accumulator of waifs and strays? What's your tragic backstory?"

Emma swallowed, opening her mouth to speak and feeling the shape of a smile still etched over her face. "That you have to earn."

"That seems fair." The brunette allowed. Emma looked at her. For perhaps the first time, Emma almost saw her. She was not so much smiling as staying in the absence of smiling. The moment before smiling.

Emma blinked, brows knitting together as she eased herself off the bunk. Regina stood up, too, the two of them lingering awkwardly. Shaking her hair back from her face, Emma gestured toward the pile of clothes. "Well, let me know about the clothes." She paused, and then turned around to go.

"It still smells like fish in here, pirate," Regina called after her. Gratitude done. Defences back up. Emma didn't look back; for some reason, just this time, it made her smile.


	6. Cartographically

**A/N ~** Filler chapter is fillery, but you're getting it early, so there's that. The next few will more than make up for it!

 **5.** **Cartographically**

Regina rose with the dawn, sitting up under the tangled, musty blankets on her hard bunk as the tiny room grew lighter and the sound of the waves against the hull brought her back to life. She watched the air go from grey to pink to orange to white, and then pushed the blankets back, standing to unfold the pile of clean clothes Emma had given her.

While the floor rocked over the waves, she laid her new clothes out on the bunk. It was immediately clear which clothes ad been taken from other boats and which had belonged to the captain. Regina ran her fingers absently over the fabric of one of the dresses. She could easily have just put that on. She could have, but she didn't. After yesterday, it just seemed absurd. And anyway, she did not need another thing for Emma Swan to ridicule her for.

Instead, Regina picked up one of the white linen shirts she'd seen Emma wearing – if the pirate could, then so could she – and pulled it over her head. _What in gods name am I doing?_ She thought to herself, but she wasn't sure if it was her voice in her head or Mother's, so she pushed it aside. The shirt was a little loose, and she had to roll up the sleeves but the leggings fitted fine – which didn't change the fact they were stiff from salt and smelled of old. And they were really ridiculously inappropriate for a woman but she needed to get used to all of that if she wanted to leave the past behind. If she wanted to move herself on. There was another smell too, a slight musky undertone like cinnamon and vanilla and something she couldn't quite name.

Well, she'd had just about enough of sitting in her ugly little room to last her whole life, so Regina opened the door and quietly slipped out, making her way out above deck, where the air was fresh and clean, and the sun was rising dripping red above the distant horizon and the grey waves. The ships boy was on his knees by the mast, scrubbing at the deck, but he didn't look up when she walked past. That gave her a thrill, as if she might already be – not belonging, not yet, when she wasn't even sure she wanted to – but making progress.

Regina stopped at the prow, putting her hands on the wooden – wall? Railing? _Ugh._ She didn't understand boats. - and closing her eyes for a moment, breathing in the cold salty air and feeling the wind rush over her skin, twine through her hair. She was standing on a pirate ship, a thousand miles away from Mother, and the king. The smell of salt on the abrasive wind, the rough deck beneath her bare feet and she'd never been happier. What that said about her, she didn't know.

She didn't know lots of things. She didn't know what that thing was that threw the man back from her yesterday. She didn't know if she'd ever get used to living in that disgusting hole of a cabin. She didn't know why she was so calm after stabbing two men. She didn't know if Mother had armies out searching for her. She didn't know if she'd end up whacking Emma Swan over the head with a spare plank of wood. But she did know one thing – and that was ugly clothes and insufferable captain or not, this was the freest she'd ever been.

"Morning, princess," A familiar voice called, full of light arrogance.

Regina lifted her gaze too the captain, supressing a bizarre urge to smile. She'd been almost a peace, watching the sun rise in a gory masterpiece of tangerine and scarlet, but of course Emma Swan had to turn up uninvited. She narrowed her eyes as the blonde sauntered closer to join her at the prow, laying her forearms on the rail with that irritating half-smirk curling at her lips and that confusing weariness behind her level green gaze. The rising sun caught in her eyes and her hair, striking her skin and that hideous coat like a match. Regina frowned at her. "Do you ever change your clothes?"

Emma turned to face her, eyebrows raised and furrowed slightly. "Excuse me?"

"Every day since I got here you've been wearing that godawful coat," Regina explained, unyielding. "And I mean, you all seemed so surprised when I didn't want to wear the same stinking dress for a month you can't blame me for wondering."

The captain turned a wounded look on her, blonde hair falling down her back in the sunlight. "This is a damn good coat," She protested, eyes wide like some whining puppy.

"No." Regina muttered, folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the railing. "And I need a hairbrush, by the way."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Anything else m'lady requires?"

"Shut up." Regina told her softly, turning her gaze back out towards the rising sun. How she'd ended up here, on the prow of a ship full of uneducated criminals and orphans, watching the sun rise with a pirate captain halfway across the world, she'd never know. For all that, she couldn't bring herself to regret it. " _Pirate_."

"Ok, why d'you keep doing that?" Emma asked, staring at her openly.

"What? Breathing?" Regina smiled grimly. "I had a feeling it was bothering you."

"Calling me _pirate_ ," Emma corrected lightly. The blonde was squinting at her slightly in the sunlight, leaning back on her elbows against the railing. "Like, is it meant to insult me? 'Cause trust me, princess, I know exactly who and what I am and to be honest? It really doesn't offend me."

"If it doesn't offend you why do you want me to stop?" Regina snapped thinly.

The blonde caught her eye and flashed a thin smile. "Now when did I ever say I wanted you to stop?"

Regina huffed, forcing herself not to smile and instead turning her most scathing look onto her. "Someday you're going to be locked up in a prison cell under the royal palace and I will be a very happy woman."

A hint of a smirk curled at the corners of Emma's mouth as she turned around, leaning back against the rail on her elbows, eyes never leaving hers. "You keep telling yourself that, princess."

Regina stared at her. "Don't call me princess, _pirate_."

"Whatever you say," Emma grinned as she walked away. " _Princess_."

-0-

Emma had been standing at the desk in her cabin, staring at the charts for a good few hours before she almost broke down. Blue sky and yellow sunlight crossed the room from the portholes, flooded in from the window, lighting up all the lines and words and coordinates she couldn't make sense of. The sea was calm today beyond the glass and wood, breathing in and out like a living thing, glimmering grey surface giving no hint at the universe beneath. And the maps were still giving her a headache.

I was just so hard, staring at the answer and not seeing it. She'd called in every one of her men and every one was just as unsuccessful as she was. Not one claimed to know the language of the writing. And hers was no ordinary crew – these weren't whoever had been at the dock when she departed, these were true men she'd hand picked and knew to their cores. She'd trust any one of them with her life.

So Emma almost broke down. Once again, staring at the map and fighting the urge to hack something to pieces or cry, lines blurred by the angry burning tears in her eyes, knuckles white and painful from her tight fists. And this time, she very nearly broke. She was _this_ close to just summoning Rumplestiltskin and getting on her knees and pleading him to just tell her where he was, just tell her what to do to find him, explain what he meant by their tangled destinies and the gift and the girl – the girl.

Emma's heart leapt, tears fading away. Of course, the girl! Why hadn't she thought of that? Regina was a princess. High birth meant rich education. Maybe, maybe... All her men were whip-smart, she knew, but there was a difference between street smarts and leather-bound-history-book smart. Yes, this had to work – this had to have been what Rumple meant. She ran to the door of her cabin, yanking it open and jogging out onto the sunlit deck, scanning for the nearest unoccupied figure. "Sal!" She called. "Hey, Sal."

The man drew to a stop in front of her, breathless grin in place. He gave a mock-salute, squinting in the harsh sunlight. "Captain?"

"Can you find Regina for me?" Emma asked. "Tell her to come to my cabin immediately."

His grin widened. "'Course, Captain. Always a pleasure."

Something about that rubbed her the wrong way. It took Emma a moment to figure out why, brow knit and bones stiff. Sal was young, and handsome, with his sandy hair and puppy-dog demeanour. He never bought whores when they docked up, but he was always laughing and complimenting the local girls (and boys) and barmaids beyond belief. It was second nature to him – hell, he'd tried it on her once or twice when they'd first met. Emma frowned, balking a little. "No funny business, alright?"

"Okay," Sal nodded, turning to go.

"Sal," Emma stared at him. "I mean it. Hands off."

"Knight's honour," He assured her, with another mock-salute before scrambling off to follow her orders. Unfortunately for her, she'd witnessed first hand what a knight's honour was worth. _Don't be an idiot_ , she told herself, turning back to her cabin. _He's a good kid. He doesn't know that._ Briefly, she wondered why she cared.

But for all her doubts, it didn't take long before a knock on the door proved Sal hadn't wasted too much of her time. "Come in," Emma called, hands braced against her desk as she scanned the map one last time. The sound of the door clicking opening and then closing behind her interrupted the endless soft song of the sea.

"You wanted to see me?" Regina prompted flatly, stepping through her cabin. Emma glanced up from the desk, gaze flickering over the new entry. It hadn't slipped her notice earlier that she'd eschewed the dress for Emma's own worn clothing. The shirt was a little big on her. It made Emma feel strange. When she approached the desk, where the light fell from the window, her dark hair shone as it caught the sun.

"Yes," Emma snapped herself out of it, standing back to her full height and nodding toward the desk. She'd resolved not to let herself get annoyed or call her _princess_ too much just right now. Not when she actually needed her to cooperate. "I want you to take a look at something for me."

Regina's gaze flickered from her to the map. "Why me?"

"Because you're the only option I have left." Emma told her honestly. "See, I'm trying to decipher the message someone's written on this map. And I may have been to a million different places since I was a kid, but none ever stuck and I don't know the language –"

"Am I getting closer to that tragic backstory?" Regina asked suddenly, eyes lit up.

Emma blinked, caught slightly off guard. She couldn't help the smile ghosting over her lips. "Not even a little bit, princess." She paused. "But anyway, I've asked all my crew and none of them know. But you, you were raised in... a castle, I'm going to assume –"

"It was a manor estate, actually." Regina corrected uninterestedly.

"Am I telling this story or you?" Emma gave her a look. She hoped that hid the fact she didn't really know what a manor estate was. _Whatever_. That only proved she needed her for this even more. "And I'm gathering that on this manor estate you had teachers, tutors, a private library full of rare books. Am I right?" The look of plain discomfort on Regina's face was all the answer she needed. "So I'm thinking that of everyone on this boat you're most likely to know what in hells name this thing says."

Emma stared hopefully at the brunette, quiet roaring as she waited for an answer. Regina opened her mouth, paused. And then; "I'll have a look, but I can't promise anything."

"I owe you one, princess," Emma let the smile wash over her as relief flooded her bones for one second. Then all her muscles just wound back up with anticipation, tiny spark of hope flowering in her chest. She stepped back so Regina could move around the back of the desk beside her.

Regina glanced at her. "You owe me more than one. You called me a prostitute, left me in a cell that stinks of fish and then nearly got me killed saving your life."

"Well, when you put it like that," Emma almost smiled, but then she realised Regina was leaning over the maps, intelligent brown eyes scanning the lines and letters of the sea chart. Her brow was just slightly furrowed, lips just slightly parted in concentration. "In my defence, I didn't _call_ you a prostitute, I thought you _were_ a prostitute and I took it back immediately when you –"

"Shhh." Regina raised a finger to silence her, eyes never leaving the map.

 _Okay,_ Emma thought, stepping back from the desk with her arms folded and wondering if Regina would be aware of anything she said right now. Not talking stoked her anxiety. It hit her in waves and pangs while she stood and watched Regina study the map. Before she knew it, her fingers were drumming an insane tune, knee twitching, blood icy and scalding in turns. After a long time of the roaring quiet growing louder and louder, she finally snapped. "Well, can you read it or not?"

"I don't know," Regina replied irritably, not looking at her. She paused for a long time, and then her heavy exhale fell through the air. "Maybe. The map's normal as far as I can tell but the writing... It's an old language. Like some kind of original version of the dwarf language. It's primitive. I might be able to get a few words but deciphering the whole thing..."

"That's great, a few words is great," Emma urged, hope darting around like a caged bird in her chest despite her better judgement. "Whatever you can do."

Regina's head whipped around to stare at her, suddenly intrigued. "What do you want with it anyway?"

Emma's heart missed a beat. She stared, lips parted for a moment before clenching her jaw and swallowing. No outsiders really knew about her search, but... Emma furrowed her brow, breathing in and considering. Was Regina still an outsider? Rumple had said... She shook her head. "I'm just looking for something."

"Telescopes can do that too," Regina muttered, turning back to the desk and pulling the map down closer to her. Without asking, she grabbed an abandoned quill and scrap of parchment, staring with narrowed eyes before writing something down in an unbelievably elegant, looping script that Emma really wasn't surprised with.

They went on like that for a few hours, Emma asking questions and Regina _shhh_ ing her while she frowned and scribbled and occasionally made irritable noises and paced. Emma started drinking by the third hour, sprawled in her purple chair swigging rum from the bottle while Regina gave her distasteful looks and wrinkled her nose at her. The alcohol must have loosened her inhibitions, because by the next hour Emma put the bottle down and suddenly broke the silence to say: "The Fortunes North."

Regina glanced up from her seat at Emma's desk, brows drawn together, quill poised in hand. "What?"

"The Fortunes North." Emma repeated slowly, savouring the words as if they could make it easier. "It's a magical compass. It leads you to the thing you want most in the world. That's what I'm looking for."

"You're trying to find something to help you find something?" Regina retorted, eyebrow quirked.

"Yes," Emma snapped, annoyed. "Now either keep writing down unhelpful random letters or give up so I can drink without you looking at me like some scolding nursemaid."

"I don't give up!" Regina stated, voice raised and brittle. "And I am not a scolding nursemaid, pirate. Drink yourself to death if you want, it's nothing to do with me."

And though Emma did not drink herself to death, she did drink herself to sleep, because they next thing she knew there was a hand on her arm, gently shaking her awake. Emma frowned, squinting in the sudden, too-bright light and groaning as the calm blackness retreated. Someone was saying her name. She blinked until the image adjusted.

Regina's face was close to hers. Close enough that she could see every curled eyelash, see the vein in her forehead, the reflection of the window in her rich brown eyes, the little scar above her full lips. Emma swallowed, ignoring the heat rushing to her neck and shaking off the last clinging tendrils of sleep. _She looks happy_ , Emma thought drowsily, and then, realising – _she looks happy._ A slight curl of a smile ghosted over the corners of her mouth, there was a triumphant shine in her eyes. "Emma," She was saying, over and over. "You damned lazy pirate, wake up."

"What?" Emma scrambled to sit upright in her chair, full force of her waking thoughts hitting her suddenly all at once. Her heart was beating in her throat. She searched Regina's eyes anxiously. "What is it, did you work it out?"

Regina drew in a breath. "Not all of it. Come here." She gestured, walking back around to the desk. Emma sprung up from her chair, blood racing, and followed. She watched intently as the brunette laid a finger on the map, beneath the two lines of writing. "This, I'm pretty sure, is something about crystals. And it references the coordinates here," she moved her hand to a little island. "And here."

Emma scanned the map, breath caught in her throat. Stared at the tiny islands, too small and inconsequential even to name on the map, but crystals... The islands were near Tiger Bay. Mostly jungle. Barely populated. Crystals... Emma's mind raced blankly for a moment before it hit her. "Crystals, that's it! Regina, you're a genius!" Regina stared at her. Emma grinned, heart pounding, pumping triumph. "These islands, they're in the right area. There's every chance they have crystal caves, particularly the bigger one."

"So that's it?" Regina stared. "Crystal caves on that island, that's where this Fortune compass is?"

"No, God no," Emma shook her head. "That's somewhere more remote. What should be at the crystal caves is the next clue, a message of some sort, the next place we have to go to find the next clue."

"That all sounds a bit like wild geese to me." Regina muttered scathingly, folding her arms as her uncertain stare dropped to rove back over the map.

"I thought that too at first but it's right." Emma assured her. "Trust me, it's right." She grinned. "Well, princess, I think you've earned your hairbrush. I've got a course to set."


	7. Hit and Miss

A/N - And here you have it. We're finally getting plottier again! But fear not, I have a few funnier chapters lined up for y'all as well.

 **6\. Hit And Miss**

They docked on the first island four days later.

It was the bigger of the two, the one Emma said was more likely to have a proper crystal cave. Regina had her reservations. But mostly because it would be her first time around ordinary people since she... left. She hadn't been around to see it, but she knew Mother would be sending out searches. She'd spent her whole life planning to make her queen and a little thing like Regina not being there wasn't going to stop her. Leopold, she wasn't sure about. Maybe at first he'd try, for Snow, but in the long term there was plenty of highborn girls younger and prettier than her, since apparently they were his only requirements.

Anyway, people knew her. That much was unsettlingly clear from how quickly Emma recognised her. It would have bee safer for her to just stay on the ship but she was going to have to do this at some point and she might as well get it over with somewhere with a low population in an obscure location.

So Regina was nervous.

And she'd rather throw herself into the sea than let that _damn_ _pirate_ know.

"Stick close by me," Emma leaned close to say to her as they crossed the dock with a few of the crew that wanted to have a drink or a hot meal or a girl. They weren't combing the jungle for crystals until tomorrow – tonight, apparently, the captain needed to see a man she knew at the inn who could get her a map of the tiny place. Night was falling fast as they arrived, soft and star-spattered, hung with a chalky rind of moon. The air was fresh and smelled of dirt and fish and the feel of solid land beneath her feet felt better than she could ever have imagined. Emma leaned in again, voice all captain. "Don't give them your real name. In fact, just go with whatever story I come up with. It's safer for everyone."

"Don't tell me what to do," Regina muttered, glaring distractedly at the shape of the higher ground beyond the tiny strip of buildings by the dock, black against black. She was not in the mood tonight. She could see her breath misting in the night air in front of her as they walked, anxiety tangled up in her stomach.

"Now is _not_ the time, princess," Emma muttered.

And she was right; it wasn't. Because now she could feel the warmth of the inn's open doorway on her skin, hear the low hum of conversation from inside. Her chest tightened. Regina took a deep breath and followed Emma and the others inside.

She glanced around cautiously, ridiculously self conscious. The tavern was awash in a warm golden glow, crude tables crammed with roughly-dressed customers. Emma made her way straight to the deserted bar, and Regina followed, heart pounding in her temples. When Emma drew up a chair, Regina did too. A few of the crew stayed with them, but most had gone to claim a table.

Regina sat in her chair, glancing anxiously at Emma every few seconds. The blonde was slouched in her chair, green stare boring into the bar, pale skin awash in the warm light of the common room. She was still wearing that ugly coat, Regina noted irritably. Eventually Emma moved more upright in her seat as an elderly bearded man sauntered out from a door behind the bar, wiping a dirty glass with a dirtier-looking rag. Regina tried not to wrinkle her nose.

"Swan!" The man exclaimed suddenly, eyes lighting up at the sight of her. His voice was gruff and friendly. "My favourite pirate captain, you stay away too long. How's things?"

Emma smiled awkwardly, and Regina stared between her and the man, getting the strange sense of seeing her with an embarrassing grandfather. For some reason that made her want to smile. It felt like a victory. "Hi, Jeremiah."

" _Hi_? You're off chasing daggers for years and all I get is _hi_?" The man, Jeremiah, Regina assumed, threw the rag down and immediately moved to fill the glass with beer, placing it down in front of Emma without her actually asking for it. "You young people. You never slow down."

"Yeah, Jeremiah." Emma said, catching his gaze insistently. Regina could see the fondness and irritation in her shining green eyes as she tried to break through. She sighed, sitting back in her chair. "I need to see Yun, is he here?"

"He is upstairs in his usual room, he complains, he charges too much." Jeremiah rattled off dismissively. "But first you must have your ale. Make you relaxed. Tell me what you have been doing." Regina glanced anxiously at Emma, trying to see what she'd do, and immediately wished she hadn't. Because that was when the old man seemed to notice her for the first time. His grey eyes lit up. "Swan, who is this? Are you finally moving on after –"

"Her?" Emma hurried, words rushing out and stumbling into one another. Regina shot her a look, searching her desperate stare fruitlessly. White panic shot through her veins, immobilizing. Emma opened her mouth. "She's no one, my new whore."

Regina's head whipped around, staring. " _Excu_ –"

" _Shhh_ ," Emma snapped savagely, shooting her a stare of wide-eyed panic. Regina gritted her teeth and glared. Jeremiah made a tutting noise and turned away to get a fresh casket.

Regina spun on Emma, fury flashing through her veins. Her brow furrowed, lips parted, stare filled with disgust. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She snapped, struggling to keep her voice low. "You are the lowest kind of pirate around, I knew I never should have –"

"What was I supposed to say, _she's the king's fiancée and the whole world's looking for her_?" Emma hissed back, green eyes wide.

"Well not _that_!" Regina cried, incredulous.

Emma's stare grew harder, lips parted. "What, I'm not good enough for you?" She muttered, voice low and thick with sarcastic interest.

Regina opened her mouth to snap something back, filled with revulsion, but then Jeremiah returned through the door and both she and Emma jerked upright in their chairs in unison, matching fake smiles plastered over their faces. "Hello," Regina forced herself to say, fake-cheerful, the same time Emma piped a weirdly high-pitched _'Hi, Jeremiah,'_

Thankfully, the old man didn't seem to suspect anything, falling right back into easy conversation with Emma, so Regina wasn't worried about letting her happy prostitute routine drop. Both Jeremiah and Emma seemed distracted enough to start ignoring her again pretty quickly, so she sat in her uncomfortable wooden chair thinking up creative ways to turn the pirate captain in and sneaking her pointed scowls when Jeremiah wasn't looking.

Eventually, Emma managed to break through about seeing Yun upstairs, whoever that was, so while Jeremiah lead her back behind the bar, Regina sat on her seat alone, fiddling slowly with her hands and staring at the grimy bar with distaste.

For the thousandth time, she wondered how she'd ended up here.

Here, slumped at a filthy tavern on an ugly street on a wild island somewhere in the sea, reliant on an infuriating pirate with the worst manners in the world for safety. Her feet were ruined. She didn't remember a time when the world didn't smell of fish. She could barely recall what fresh fruit tasted like. _Dear God, what's become of me?_

Beside her, she was faintly aware of that Alaric man cheerily hailing a barmaid for a refill of ale. The girl grinned and obligingly filled his tankard, and the blond pirate beside him's too. Without thinking about what she was doing, Regina settled upright in her chair and caught the girl's eye. "I'll have one, too."

The girl nodded, grabbing a pewter tankard to set in front of her and slosh full of the acrid, yellowish liquid. She didn't say anything, but Alaric nudged her, already grinning and flushed from the alcohol, and yelled over the din, "How you paying for that, darling?"

Regina raised her voice against the noise, petty triumph surging in her chest. "If the captain wants me on board, she's just going to have to provide for me, isn't she?"

Alaric and the pirate beside him cheered in drunken approval. Regina doubted they'd remember tomorrow but smiled smugly all the same. She tried her best not to wrinkle her nose at the cheap alcohol, instead closing her eyes and focusing only on how much this was going to piss Emma off. She lifted the cup to her lips carefully, trying to forget about all the disease and germs probably crawling all over it and downed a swig, choking on the sudden burn in the back of her throat.

The pirates around her were still cheering her on, which gave her a warm kind of victory – it felt like she was beating Emma, somehow. She wasn't exactly sure what game they were playing, but Regina was determined to win. So, despite the poor quality and frankly foul taste, she braced herself and took another prim sip of her drink. Alaric clapped her on the back. Regina tensed out of instinct, but she was fairly sure it was a friendly, encouraging kind of gesture. She smiled at him, warmth spreading through her stomach. "This tastes like pig swill, by the way!"

Alaric laughed, hand warm on her shoulder. He shook his head, eyes sparkling, grin incredulous and soft. "You know, sometimes I think you're exactly what Swan's needed for a while."

Regina didn't know what he meant, so she just took another drink. And considering she was in a grimy desert-island dive drinking bad beer with a bunch of criminals, she wasn't in that bad a mood. Not until the man she didn't recognise started talking to her. She'd mostly just stuck by Emma's crew all night, but when he came over she was sort of penned in by one of the pirates – Sal? – and she could hardly just ignore him. He'd clearly had a few drinks, and he was muttering thickly about his wife, who he thought was being unfaithful to him. Regina just held her breath and prayed he didn't realise she was supposed to be someone else's wife right now.

He was disgusting, but Regina couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him. At least, that was until he stumbled forward until she could smell the beer on his breath, red-rimmed eyes glazed and shining, trailing over her body. She wrinkled her nose and brow in distaste. "You're beautiful."

"I'm leaving." Regina added, placing her cup down on the bar and jumping up from her stool. She could hardly wait around for Emma all night, after all, and even after just half a cup she was feeling a little too warm. Which wasn't her fault. She was used to the occasional glass of fine wine, not this thick peasant swill.  
She wove a path through the drunk people, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and out of place, until she could push through the door and out into the cool night air. Regina breathed in, closing her eyes for a moment and letting the refreshing breeze wind over her hot tight skin in the starlight. Out under the open velvet sky, she could feel her heart slow back to normal in her chest and her wrists. She could hear the sea lapping at the beach close by. For the first time, it was strangely comforting.

She wasn't going to go back in. No, Regina decided – she'd go back to the ship. Get some sleep. She breathed in the fresh air, wrapping her arms around her tight against the cold as she made her way down the dimly lit street toward where she could see the Saviour rocking in the dock. The island was too small to have a proper dock, just a few plots side by side, jutting out from the beach. Regina sped up at the sight of it. She was getting that strange sensation of aloneness again, of freedom and being somewhere far away. Of getting away with something she shouldn't.

She must have cursed her luck.

"Hey!" A thick voice called from behind her. Regina spun around, arm folded, squinting through the dark, though she already knew who it was. Her heart sank into her chest. He staggered to catch up, surprisingly fast for someone so inebriated. "Hey, beautiful!"

"You're drunk." Regina snapped. "Leave me alone." She flickered her gaze over him, his bedraggled clothes, ugly beard, foul breath. "Go back home to your wife. Maybe if you were actually there instead of leering at girls in bars she wouldn't be sleeping with the baker." She turned around, stalking off, heart speeding up in her chest.

"Hey," The man's rough voice rose in the night. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't you talk about her like that." Regina ignored him, though her blood was racing through her veins, feet carrying her faster over the cobblestones. There was a feeling in her chest and her temples that told her she'd made a mistake. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Her heart jolted as a heavy hand grabbed her arm, spinning her around roughly. "Hey!" Regina heard herself cry, panic shooting through her veins. She wrenched away from him, but he was stronger than he looked, squeezing her arm so tight it hurt. She struggled as the man pulled her closer, until she could feel his hot sour breath on her face. Panic zipped, frantic like a caged bird in her ribs. "Let go of me!"

"Pretty." He uttered, like a caveman. And then something changed behind his eyes, like there was some coherent thought connecting in his alcohol-saturated brain. A new panic started up in her chest. A furrow appeared between his brows. _No_ , Regina prayed. _God_ _no_. "I know you." He stated thickly. "I know who you are."

"You're drunk," Regina reasoned, mind racing with her frantic heart. "You don't know anything. You need to go home and sleep and you'll forget about all of this in the morning."

"You're some kind of princess." He stated. His fingers were digging into her. "That king's wife." Regina watched in paralyzed horror while a slow smile spread over his face, full of childlike joy. "Imagine the gold I'll get when I give you back!"

"No!" Regina shouted, struggling to yank herself away. His fingers closed around her harder, biting into her skin. She gasped, fighting against him and then – then – then she felt that thing again, that build-up of something crackling and surging like an ocean under her skin, and suddenly he was crashing against the stones, a metre away.

Regina stared down at her hands. She knew with unwavering certainty that she'd done it. Once, adrenaline, maybe, but this had happened before, on the ship with the men who were fighting Emma. This was – realisation hit her hard. She stumbled back, breath caught in her throat. Horrified. There was only one person who could explain this. The one person who started all of this in the first place – the person who put this damn stupid idea in her head in the first place.

"Rumplestiltskin," Regina breathed darkly. She hurried the rest of the way back to the ship, tearing up the wooden ramp onto the dock and back into her tiny cabin. Once the door was safely swinging shut behind her, she said it again, quiet at first but then louder as her anger mounted. "Rumplestiltskin! Dark One, I summon thee!"

"Hello, dearie!" His familiar voice called cheerily. Regina whirled around viciously, glaring and shivering as she saw the damn vile imp standing the corner of the room. Dressed in leather, with those snakelike eyes and that skin like nothing human. "It's been a while."

"What did you do to me?" Regina demanded. She could feel her voice shaking with her anger. He opened his mouth so she launched further and cut him off. "I know you did something! When I asked you for help you told me I could go to those docks and ever since this – _thing_ – keeps happening when I'm scared, or I'm not thinking and it had to be you!"

Rumple sighed theatrically. "Oh, my dear Regina, you can be so _silly_." His tone darkened. "I haven't done a thing. You, on the other hand..."

Regina stared, brow furrowed. She could feel her breath heavy in her chest. The air between them was thick and laden with secrets and swirling dust. Her tiny cabin was seeming ever smaller. "What do you mean?" She demanded.

The Dark One raised his hands lightly, calculating, inhuman gaze boring into hers.

"Oh, for the love of –" Regina spun on her feet, lurching closer to him. Panic and anger were rising, flashing through her tight veins and erratic heart, tangling with the vestiges of her adrenaline. Can't you just tell me _something_?" She clenched her jaw, heart pounding. "Why does this keep happening? What is it?"

Rumplestiltskin sighed lightly, as if she was some stupid child who didn't understand. He took a measured step toward her, gaze raking over her face like she was a problem he was trying to solve. Eventually, he met her stare. When he spoke his voice was tight and triumphant. "I think you already know that, dearie."

"What are you talking about?" Regina snapped. "What are you ever talking about? I don't know what's happening, I don't –"

"Yes you do, dearie." Rumple pressed through gritted teeth, irritated. "Think. You have had plenty of experience with this particular subject, you know that. In fact, you complained about it a great deal. You summoned me, remember? Always whining. _Oh, Dark One, my witch mother is going to make me_ –"

"No." Regina heard herself say. Her mind raced frantically, pieces falling into place. Inside her chest, her heart was frantic, throwing itself at her ribs like that could somehow make the truth any less real. She shook her head, staring, and repeated, more forcefully, " _No_!"

"Dearie," He sighed, eyes finding hers, hard and purposeful, and ever so slightly sad. "You can't change what you are."

Regina stepped toward him, eyes searching his for something. She clenched her jaw. She shook her head. She swallowed hard. " _Watch me_."

"Stupid girl!" Rumplestiltskin snapped, something almost human flashing behind his eyes and in his tight, high voice. Regina frowned, defensively flickering her stare over his scowl. "Magic is not a gift you can toss aside like a bored child! Magic is an art, a key –"

"Well, I don't want it!" Regina shouted. "You can have it, get rid of it!"

"Regina? Are you alright, what the hell's going on?"

Regina spun around to stare at where Emma was standing in the open doorway.

She faltered, glancing hopelessly between the pirate captain and the Dark One. Emma was slouched in the doorway, but at the sight of the scaled stranger on her ship her posture jerked upright, brow furrowed in confusion, lips parted, eyes wide and filled with hatred. Regina stared from her to Rumple. Confusion as beginning to set in. Because Emma wasn't staring at _her_ like she knew exactly who she was and wanted to punch her. Emma was staring at Rumplestiltskin like that.

Before Regina had the chance to ask what was going on, Emma has pushed past her, storming into the room and over to the Dark One. That godawful coat spun out behind her as she moved. "What the hell are you doing here?" Emma demanded, breathless. Her green eyes were wide and flashing, jaw tight, stance darkening with rage. Regina glanced between them awkwardly. At last, Emma seemed to remember she was there, staring back at her before rounding on the Dark One. "What the hell were you doing with _her_? Get the hell away from her!"

"We've been through this a thousand times, dearies." Rumple stated simply, eyes fixed solidly on Emma's furious face. He spoke slowly, carefully. "You don't get to give me orders when you're all playing my game."

Regina's mind was still working hard to keep up. She frowned, staring. "You two know each other?"

Emma fixed her with a confused stare. "You know the Dark One?"

A slow, small smile crept across Rumple's face. A manic, trilling giggle filled the air. And with that, Rumplestiltskin vanished into the night.

Regina stared hopelessly at the empty space where the Dark One had stood. She'd been looking for answers, and in his place was nothing but shifting wooden boards and drifting dust motes. "Well," She managed. "That was unexpected."

"Ugh!" Emma's frustrated shout, a few inches to her right, was accompanied by the crashing sound of an ornament shattering against the wall. Regina turned to stare at her. The blonde was breathing heavily, face contorted with anger and something Regina thought might be pain. She'd evidently grabbed one of the ugly things gathering dust beside the bed and decided to get rid of it. Well, Regina was grateful. She was the one who had to look at the damn things every day.

She watched as Emma sighed, blinking in the muddy yellow light. The pirate shook her head slightly, walking heavily to where the ornament had shattered. Regina stood, trying to make sense of it all while Emma dropped to one knee to begin picking up the shards. The air seemed suddenly a thousand times thicker, stagnant. It settled over everything like dust. Muffling.

Before she knew what she was doing Regina had gone to her and joined her on the creaking wooden floor. "Here," Her voice was soft. Somewhere in the confusion and shouting she'd lost the will to snap. For now. Regina looked at her, but the pirate's stare as resolutely fixed on the ground, so she let her own gaze flicker down, carefully picking up the fallen shards.

Gathering the fragments in a stack in her hand, Regina stared at the dusty floor, suddenly strangely aware of her breath in her chest. She could feel the floor beneath her shifting over the ocean. Regina reached for the last shard, and then her heart jolted in her chest as her hand brushed Emma's over the smashed china. She looked up immediately to find Emma staring at her, wide green eyes boring into hers. Regina jerked her hand back suddenly, as if she'd been burnt. She swallowed, ignoring the feeling in her stomach and climbing to her feet, dusting herself off for something to focus on.

Emma stood with her, rising abruptly with a fist full of broken china. Regina didn't know whether she'd anticipated how close that put them – she didn't step away, just in case she had and this was just another round of the game she didn't want to lose. Instead, she just met her unwavering stare, looking up at the pirate captain in the middle of the sea.

They stayed like that for a long time.

Regina couldn't quite figure out what was going on here, but she didn't say a word. There was something in the taller woman's sea-green gaze, some soft insistence like a truce. The night painted soft grey shadows over her face, lit up the pirate's blonde hair like a halo. The air between them seemed so heavy, laden with things they hadn't said or felt or seen yet. Regina could hear her own heart beating.

After a long time, Emma spoke. Her pained eyes never left Regina's. "He has my son." Her voice was tight and rough, cracking. "The Dark One. He has my son."

Regina blinked softly in the pale silvery light. And suddenly everything made sense. "That's why you're looking for the compass," She heard her own voice saying. "So you can find him."

Emma nodded, swallowing. Regina could see the muscles working in her neck, and the shine of tears gathering in her eyes. That feeling, like a weight on her chest, in her stomach, started up again then and she thought she might just be figuring out why – this was the all-feared pirate captain Emma Swan. Criminal, thief, turncoat. Leader of a rag-tag band of killers and rebels. Standing in front of her with nothing but her own emotions. Regina got the feeling this wasn't something that happened often.

"Then I'll help you." Regina heard herself say, words hanging in the congealed air for a moment before fading. Her heart as beating harder against her chest, so she knew it was the right thing to do. Emma stared at her strangely. "He was the one who told me to go to the docks. When I summoned him to help me run away." Regina looked up at her, unafraid. She'd never said that out loud before. Not to another human being. Even though she knew the captain had probably worked it out, it still felt freeing. Emma didn't say a word. "I could have gotten on any stinking, creaking, ugly boat. But I didn't. I got on Hook's, which means I ended up here. For whatever reason, this is where I am now. You said I had to earn my keep, well, this can be how." She paused, swallowing hard. "You love your son, Captain?"

"More than anything." Emma nodded, voice hoarse.

Cool relief washed over Regina. She was glad the pirate had enough sense to know not to ask why she needed to say that question. "Then you shouldn't be away from him."

" _Thank you_ ," The pirate breathed, brow slightly furrowed. "The whole crew – we've been working on this for so long. Trying to find him. I just – thank you." She hesitated. "It's late. I should let you sleep."

Regina swallowed, nodding awkwardly. She drifted with Emma over to the door, still hanging open on rusty hinges. Regina stilled it absently with a hand against the wood. The pirate was standing in the doorway looking down at her, mouth tight, brow twisted slightly. Her green eyes ran down over her – Regina could feel the weight of her stare on her skin, her face. Warmth crept across her cheeks. Her gaze flickered up to meet Emma's. She opened her mouth, searching for words. "Goodnight, pirate."

A hint of a smile curled at the corner of the pirate's mouth. "'Night, princess."


	8. Small Earthquakes

**A/N -** I have a feeling you're going to enjoy this one...

 **7\. Small Earthquakes**

There were probably a thousand lessons she could learn from all of this. A million morals she could take from this bizarre turn of events. But if there was one thing Regina was quickly learning it was that she did _not_ like jungles.

She did _not_ like shouldering through scratchy, waxy leaves and vines that caught and tangled. She did not like wading through stagnant humid air that clung and sweated and made everything drip endlessly to the worlds' most annoying rhythm. She didn't like the bugs, or the springy black dirt under her feet that stuck to everything and made her look like some farm-fresh peasant.

And she was _really_ beginning to not like Emma Swan.

(Well. More so than before.)

Regina huffed loudly, glaring pointedly at the pirate's back as she trudged through the scraggly undergrowth. Just on the off chance the unwashed renegade bothered to notice her. And she'd offered to help her _willingly_! Right now she was having a hard time remembering why. _Not even a thank you. So rude._

The white-hot midday sun was beating down mercilessly on the dripping, chirping ugly dirty jungle. Regina could feel her loose hair clinging to her neck and forehead, her stupid oversized shirt sticking to her damp back. "Ugh," She couldn't help making a disgusted face as she plucked it away from her skin for a second, grimacing.

She glanced up sharply, wondering if Emma had bothered to notice. No such luck. Regina scowled. The damn stupid pirate was still meters ahead of her – and she, for the record, was meters ahead of the rest of the crew. She'd decided that since she was going to be assisting Emma on this ridiculous quest that had nothing to do with her, anything she could do, Regina could do too.

The captain was hacking though the jungle with her sword, blonde hair limp with sweat and swinging with every slash. For some reason, despite the heat, she still thought it was appropriate to wear that damned coat.

Regina scowled, breath laboured as she trudged through the jungle, trying to push the plants out of her way without touching them too much. "Disgusting place," She muttered under her breath, jerkily flicking away an insect. "I'm assuming the fearsome Emma Swan is above taking breaks?"

"Stop _talking_ ," Emma glowered, fixing her with a deadly stare, green eyes filled with hatred. Regina jumped as she nearly walked right into a spider web. She made a face, pushing past and shuddering. _Horrible dirty too hot island._

She supposed all that happy families, helping each other clean up broken china stuff was over then. Regina wasn't surprised. She had no idea where that came from, but honestly, she doubted it would come back. Severely doubted. "You do realize –" Regina breathed in sharply, trying not to pant like she was a damn dog, or in some way less able than the pirate. "That walking for hours in the midday sun without stopping isn't advisable for one's health?"

Emma sighed, pressing forward and glaring at the horizon. "If you're so worried, princess, why don't you just turn around and go back to the ship?" Without warning, she raised her blade and swung viciously to hack through the dense brush about an inch in front of Regina's face. Regina somehow managed to suppress her shocked yelp, heart thudding.

"No." Regina told her defensively, mustering all the cool refusal she could.

"You are _such_ a self-destructive stubborn spoiled princess," Emma muttered, voice thick with annoyance.

"And you're a wanted criminal!"

Regina turned around, glowering, to catch sight of the rest of the crew. Her heart leapt. All she could see was jungle. Regina stumbled to a stop with her breath caught in her throat, twisting to scan the dense green shrubbery and black earth. Nothing. She frowned. If she listened very carefully, beyond the clicking bugs and distant rushing sea and dripping leaves and her own heavy breathing she could just make out their low conversation, somewhere in the distance behind them. _Oh, for the love of –_

"Hey!" Regina snapped. She turned back, scrambling over thick twisted roots toward the pirate captain. Emma didn't turn around, still way ahead, trudging on relentlessly. She kept hacking with that stupid sword like the great meathead pirate moron she was. Regina tried to go faster, almost catching up. "Hey! You need to slow down." _Damn this heat._ She fanned her neck absently, reaching out to try and pull Emma to a halt. "Hey! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Emma ignored her, striding on with her brow heavy and jaw tight, eyes fixed resolutely on some point in the distance. Regina glowered. "Can you stop being intense for one minute and listen to me, _pirate_?" She snapped.

"Shut up," Emma murmured irritably, like she was swatting a fly. Wincing, she kept going through the jungle as it thinned.

"This is what I get for risking my life for your stupid compass," Regina wondered to herself, incredulous. _Stupid pirate and her stupid death wish._ She sighed, clenching her jaw and stumbling to catch up, trying in vain not to touch anything ducking around the shrubbery. "Ugh." She shuddered. "You need to stop, Emma. You're leaving the others behind."

"They can take care of themselves." Emma replied monotonously. Regina frowned at her, hurrying to keep pace. All the blonde seemed interested in was the space in front of her, green eyes hardening every time she spoke. "Unlike you, they know how to follow a trail."

Regina glared. "Well, excuse me for never having walked through a _jungle_ all day looking for crystals before –" She huffed, pulling the damp shirt back from her neck again uncomfortably. "Disgusting island. Stupid ugly plants everywhere – _damn this godawful heat_. Who's bright idea was it to walk around here in the middle of summer anyway?" Regina grimaced, once again yearning for a nice bath and a change of clothes. The sensation was all too familiar. "And I _hate_ insects!" She sighed, keeping up her running commentary under her breath as she struggled to keep up. "Would it hurt anyone to take a break, once in a while? Or at least look at a damn map, because really –"

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes theatrically. "Why do you _never_ stop complaining?"

"Why do you keep telling people I'm a prostitute!"

The pirate glared at her. "You're annoying."

"Your eloquence astounds me." Regina stated dryly, refusing to drop her wide, pissed off stare. Emma's glower intensified. A slight burst of triumph flourished in Regina's chest. It seemed to annoy the captain when she spoke properly. She opened her mouth to say something else but the minute she started to speak Emma pushed past her, staring. "Hey! That is so typical, you -"

"Shhh." Emma hissed, finally standing still. Regina gave her a dirty look. She still followed closely though, stopping beside the pirate and shooting her a sideways scowl, trying to figure out what was going on. "Look," Emma stated. She nodded softly in the direction she was staring, lips parted, not taking her eyes away for one minute.

Wondering why, Regina followed her line of vision, frowning. She could see ugly thick trees and ropey vines and spongy dirt. The same as she'd been seeing all day. Frankly, she couldn't remember a time she hadn't seen that, and she was beginning to doubt there would be a time she didn't. "What am I looking at?"

"There." The hint of a smile twitched at Emma's focused features. Then, suddenly, she lunged forward, leaning to quickly unearth something from it half covering of soil. She spun around, striding to face Regina with triumph glittering in her green eyes. She held it up between them so she could see – between the captain's muddy fingers was a shard of crystal. Perfectly clear, so that where the sunlight hit it fractured and rained warm rainbow light down over her skin.

Regina glared, mouth tight. She was not impressed. "We've been following crystals for hours."

Emma huffed, rolling her hard stare back at her. The bravado dropped from her movement: she had clearly been expecting a bigger reaction. _Well_ , Regina thought, folding her arms, _if that's what she's looking for, she should have brought someone else along._

Emma held the stone tighter. "Crystals, yes. These, no. We've been following geodes and quartz, impure stones or ones grown out of rocks. This is different, practically perfect." She searched Regina's gaze, looking for some kind of understanding. Regina raised an eyebrow. She could see irritation clench in Emma's jaw. "We're getting closer. It means we're getting closer."

"Well I should hope so!" Regina exclaimed, annoyed. "We've only been walking since sunrise."

Emma narrowed her eyes at her. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to be quiet once in a while."

Regina almost threw her hands up in frustration. Like _she_ was the one who was being so irrational. "And it wouldn't kill you to stop your damn intense brooding for one minute and sit in the shade –"

"Hey, I've said you can go back if you want, there's nothing stopping you." Emma told her, shrugging slightly in the sweltering sunlight.

Regina huffed, pushing her damp dark hair off her sweaty neck as best she could. This _damn_ pirate, always thinking she was on the higher ground, always with an answer for everything, stupid uneducated vagabond. "Excuse me –"

A new hard triumph lit up behind Emma's eyes. Regina scowled as a slight smirk curled at the pirate's lips. It spread over her face, so that by the time she spoke Emma was grinning at her victoriously, head cocked slightly. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were worried about me."

Regina gaped, heart speeding up against her chest for some bizarre reason. She made an incredulous sound in the back of her throat, rolling her eyes slightly. "Don't flatter yourself." She made a face, and then stared harder when she realised Emma hadn't looked away. "That's absurd."

"Oh, really?" Emma cocked an eyebrow, moving closer. Regina glared up at her stupid smug face. "Because all I'm seeing is you going on and on about whether or not I'm going to do myself in."

Regina narrowed her eyes derisively, exasperatedly searching for the right words, annoyed beyond belief. "You are so – so – "

"Right?" Emma prompted, eyebrows raised slightly, hint of a smirk still fixed to her mouth.

"Obnoxious!" Regina snapped, folding her arms across her chest and scowling.

"Yeah, you've wasted however long having this conversation and I'm the obnoxious one," Emma muttered, shouldering past with that infuriating smug smirk still ghosting over her face. Regina stared after her, silently fuming. She took a moment before hurrying after her. She'd just opened her mouth to say something when Emma cut her off, which was strange, because she hadn't turned around to see. The pirate was still ahead of her, limp blonde hair swinging against the back of her awful coat. "Choose your battles, princess!"

Regina rolled her eyes and followed, inwardly cursing every insect on this damned rock to hell. "Fine," She snapped, under her breath. "Get yourself killed, _pirate_. See if I care."

-0-

By the time the first earthquake hit, it was clear they'd lost the rest of the crew a long time ago.

As mid afternoon dragged on and on the sun beat down hotter and hotter, the damn princess complained more and more and the sweat clinging to the back of her neck had started dripping down her spine, but Emma was becoming less and less aware of any of it. The further she walked, the more the crystals appeared. It was a trail. She had to follow it to the end. To the next step. To the compass. To _him_. That was all that mattered.

All that mattered.

Emma was faintly aware of Regina's endless stream of pretentious bullshit, which was annoying. She wouldn't shut up about the bugs, or the birds, or boats or something. Emma didn't care. Not one bit. All she cared about was the crystals. The crystals that would lead her to the cave that would lead her to the compass that would lead her to her kid. That was all that mattered.

She didn't care Regina hated mosquitos. She didn't care Regina had finished her skin of water a while back, when they passed that huge tree with the pomegranates. She didn't care that she and Regina had lost the others way too long ago. She didn't care. In fact, she wasn't even listening. _Nope,_ Emma thought, swinging her arm to hack through the dense green brush, _I don't even know what she's talking about._

Then the first earthquake hit.

It was just a small quake – the dirt beneath her boots shook, making her heart jolt in her chest. Then suddenly the leaves were shaking and somewhere there was water rushing. She could feel the vibration in her bones. Emma spun around when she heard Regina cry out meeting her eyes across the jungle as the earth stilled beneath them. She stared for a second, adrenaline slowing as Emma become sure it was over.

"What the hell was that?" Regina demanded, eyes wide, breathless.

Emma shook her head, regaining her breath. "It was just an earthquake."

She stared anxiously, watching Regina carefully for some kind of tell. " _Just an earthquake?!_ " And then, in one second, all the fear and all the panic drained from her face, and all that was left was annoyed disbelief. Emma frowned as she watched the brunette roll her eyes and sigh theatrically. She had to blink when Regina actually, legitimately _stamped her foot._

"For the love of – God, of all the things in the world!" She shook her head. "Pirates. I ended up on a damn pirate ship, and then another one – not to mention one without a damn _bath_ at the end of the day – and now I'm halfway around the world, stalking through a jungle, to find a magic compass for a pirate I don't even _like_ all while running and hiding from the law because my crazy magic-wielding mother is trying to sell me to the king and now you're telling me it's _just_ an earthquake?" She shook her head, eyes wide, jaw tight. "No. _No._ Not acceptable."

Emma blinked. She could feel the furrow between her brows, breath slowing in her lungs. She'd known Regina was unhappy, of course, she'd always known that things had to be bad for her to choose the ship she professed to hate over her home but she'd been so distracted by everything else, she'd never really thought of the details.

Yeah, she was pretentious and rude and annoying as hell but she was still a person. There had been times she'd glimpsed it. She'd seen something else and it had scared her shitless so she just pretended she hadn't and they both went back to pissing each other off, easy as that.

Regina was staring at her, brows knit and eyes watery, full lips parted. Emma could see her chest moving with every breath. Neither of them noticed the tell-tale rumble in the distance. Emma stepped forward without even thinking about it, swallowed hard. In the glaring high sun, the brunette's dark eyes were shining up at her, and Emma felt that thing again in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak.

Then the land beneath their feet jolted again, much harder than the last time and the next thing Emma knew the air was knocked out of her lungs as she landed roughly – instinctively, she managed to throw her hands out to take most of the impact – but that didn't change the fact she'd landed flat out on top of Regina.

Emma gasped, lungs desperately sucking in gulps of air. Her chest felt too tight, empty, throat burning but as soon as she had control of her lungs back she almost wished she didn't. Heat flooded her neck, crawling up her face. Her gaze flickered down, breath tangled around her beating heart for a different reason. When she'd hit the ground, her hands had managed to find the dirt either side of Regina, so she can't have hurt her too badly, thank god. But that... That wasn't what she was worried about right now. She swallowed hard. _God._ She was a fucking pirate captain, she shouldn't be getting – awkward – about something so stupid.

Regina's face was less than an inch from her own, noses practically brushing. Emma stared. The brunette winced, moving her head against the dirt, brow furrowed, lips parted – her expression was etched with pain. A low groan left her lips. Emma's stomach tightened. Still gasping for breath, Emma pushed up, straightening her arms to relieve her of her weight as best she could.

Her blood was racing, throat tight as the prickling heat crept over her face while she watched the pain subside from Regina's face, transfixed. She could feel the smaller woman's chest moving beneath hers with every breath, feel the warm soft curves of her body pressed against her. Was the earth still shaking or was that just her?

Regina's eyes opened suddenly, blinking in the harsh sunlight. They were so close, Emma could practically feel her dark eyelashes brushing against her face. The brunette shifted, and her heart jolted into her tight stomach when she felt her nose brush against hers. Emma could feel her breath on her skin, surrounded by the dizzying sweet scent of her shining dark hair, tossed about her pretty face in the dirt, less than an inch below her own.

Regina's gaze lifted to meet hers. Emma's breath caught in her throat. Her brown eyes were soft and full of sunlight, shining beneath long lashes that cast shadows over the gentle curve of her cheekbone in the light. Emma couldn't bring herself to look away. Noses brushing, hair tangled together, breathing in tandem in the black dirt with spun gold sunlight spraying all around them. She was close enough to see the hairs of her eyebrows, the curl of her lashes, scar on her lips. Her full, soft-looking lips, less than an inch under Emma's. Heat blazed up her neck.

Then Regina opened her mouth, wincing. "Get the hell – off me –" She managed, voice strained and low. She sat up slightly so Emma could feel her breasts press against her for the slightest second. Everywhere they touched caught on fire: it seemed to jolt her from her trance, at least.

 _What the fuck?_

Emma jerked upright, rolling off of her into the dirt, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breath, cheeks firing up. She swallowed hard, gasping on her back. She could feel the dirt clinging to her, the sweat sticking. _What the fuck was that?_ Confused, she scrambled to her feet, mind racing. "I – um –" She swallowed hard, cheeks burning.

Almost as a second thought, she looked back down at Regina, who was still lying in the dirt, hair splayed around her, wincing and groaning. Even as her better judgement complained _fucking drama queen,_ Emma bent down to offer her hand. "Here,"

Regina made a big fuss of sitting up on her elbows before she even looked at Emma's hand, whole body suddenly sharp and defensive. Hard brown eyes darted from her outstretched palm to her face, unyielding. Emma leaned down, reaching to grab her hand but the brunette jerked back, eyes wide and harsh. "Don't touch me," She snapped, shifting on her hands in the dirt.

"I'm just trying to help," Emma reminded her, voice rough and breathless. She thrust her hand out for Regina to take.

"I don't need your help." Regina snapped, staring at the ground as she climbed to her feet. Emma tried not to stare – the dirt was clinging to her hair, her sweat-soaked shirt. Disbelief was crawling into her mind. How could she have been having those – _thoughts_ – just a minute ago? Just because she looked pretty underneath her? God. This woman was by far the most annoying, stubborn, ungrateful brat she had ever met.

And for some reason she couldn't help worrying about her.

The furrow between Emma's brows deepened as her stare snagged on something. A streak of scarlet against olive skin, stains like flowers where she'd brushed her shirt. "Regina, what's that? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Regina snapped savagely, dusting the clinging dirt from her shirt.

"No, you're not." Emma insisted, stepping forward into the smaller woman's personal space. Regina cried out in anger when she grabbed for her wrist, catching it easily in her strong palm. Just as she suspected. "You're bleeding."

"I'm well aware." Regina wrenched her had free, curling her fingers lightly over her palm, hiding the bloody gash colouring the skin there.

Emma frowned. "What the hell, princess? That's going to get infected."

Regina's shining dark eyes flickered up to meet hers warily. "How do you know?" She demanded. She was trying to act detached, like she couldn't care less but Emma could hear the caution in her voice.

"Because I've seen it happen a billion times. Hell, happened to me before I was captain. You think it's just a harmless cut but if you don't dress it right, in the wrong environment – which, trust me, princess, _you are_ – it'll get infected and that's a whole lot harder treat." Emma met her gaze, jaw tightening. "Sit down on that rock and I'll look at it for you."

"You sit down," Regina countered defensively, folding her arms across her chest.

"For the love of god, princess." Emma sighed, exasperated. "Why are you being so difficult?"

Regina's eyes dared up to meet hers for a second, and Emma could see the tanned skin of her neck contract as she swallowed. Emma held her gaze, didn't look away. She realized she probably should have held back on the derogative nickname, but it was too late to fix that now. The least she could do was fix her hand. Emma watched, stare open and honest and unflinching. She could see the conflict running though the brunette's mind, though god only knew why.

Then, with one last wary look over her, Regina turned and moved to sit herself down primly on the edge of the rock – a big grey slab half strangled with moss. Emma almost smiled. Almost. She walked softly over to sit beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of her body but not so close their thighs were touching – she knew better than that. Emma looked sideways at her, trying to keep her stare soft as it sought hers. "Can I have a look?"

Regina glanced at her, jaw tight, and then blinked in the sunlight, holding out her cut hand. It was almost – not childish, but not exactly not either. She uncurled her bloody fingers so Emma could see. She must have cut herself on a rock as she'd fallen – the skin of her palm was torn and weakly pulsing sticky scarlet blood. There was already dirt clinging to the wetness.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Emma raised her eyebrows lightly, giving Regina a hint of a smile. She twisted around to fumble in the leather bag at her hip, digging past the map and the water skin until her fingers closed around cold glass, pulling it out. The bottle was old, scratched, and the alcohol inside was almost pure. She'd been saving it for a special occasion. Ignoring Regina's stare, she unceremoniously raised it to her mouth, yanking the cork out with her teeth and spitting it into her other hand. She raised her gaze to Regina's. "This might sting a bit."

"I can take it." Regina's eyes didn't leave hers.

Emma tilted the bottle slightly over the brunette's bloodied hand, letting the clear liquor spill down over her wound. She heard Regina's sharp intake of breath as it touched her cut, but nothing more. Emma was surprised. She'd have thought that if anyone would make a big fuss out of the pain it would be her. _Well, someone's just full of surprises today._

She set the bottle on the rock beside her, reaching for the hem of her shirt. Emma gritted her teeth, grasping the roughspun canvas in both fists and yanking hard. The fabric ripped easily. She tore the strip in half before she reached for Regina's hand, gaze seeking hers. "You gonna let me dress it for you?"

"You just ruined your shirt." Regina stated, but it didn't seem like an insult. In fact, if she didn't know better, she'd say it was almost the opposite. There was a strange look in the other woman's dark eyes.

"You'd get an infection otherwise." Emma reminded her, eyebrows raised, hand outstretched. "Now is it okay if I dress it?" Regina nodded, and Emma reached to hold her injured hand very carefully, wrapping her calloused fingers around the outside of the brunette's and holding it gently while she carefully wiped the excess blood away on one of the new rags. Her hand was warm, skin softer than anything Emma had touched in a long time. A faint smile ghosted over her concentrating face.

Gently, she lifted Regina's hand in her own to slow the blood flow while she began wrapping the makeshift bandage around the cut, making sure to cover the whole gash. "Might be a little tight," Emma said, while she worked. "But you'd bleed through otherwise."

Regina was staring at her, dark eyes wide and boring into her. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Emma's gaze darted up to meet hers, fingers still working on the strip of cloth. "I'm just doing what any decent person would."

Something shifted in Regina's full stare; a slight furrow to her brow. "But you hate me." The brunette stated.

Emma opened her mouth, searching for the right thing to say. She could feel the hint of a smile twitch at the corners of her lips. "Hate is a strong word."

"And you're a pirate." Regina added, insistent.

Emma did smile then, just for a second. She said it like you couldn't be both. And maybe you couldn't – she couldn't say. She was no god. But she was no ordinary pirate, either. "I'm a decent one." Emma paused, carefully knotting off the end of the bandage. "Besides, you decided to stay and help me. You made that call. Pirate or not, wouldn't I be kind of an ass if I didn't do the same?"

Regina smiled softly, glowing in the sunlight, even if she didn't look entirely convinced. She opened her mouth. "I suppose that's true."

Emma finished tying off the scrap of cloth, carefully tucking the excess fabric into the wrappings. "There. You're all done." And then, for some reason, instead of moving her hand away she just let it rest against hers for a moment.

Regina's hands were neat and serious, untouched by callous or scar. It seemed almost ridiculous to Emma how smooth, how soft the skin was there. She'd never seen a day of hard labour in her life. Hell, she'd never seen a day of _labour_ in her life.

 _You're worlds apart,_ Emma kept reminding herself, _you're worlds apart._ But those worlds were starting to collide. And she wasn't complaining. After a lifetime of nothing but splinters and swords and rough wood and rope and canvas, having a soft hand in hers was almost refreshing.


	9. Dreaming of Angels

**A/N –** What's this? Actual _talking_? Is that progress I hear?

 **8\. Dreaming of Angels**

Knowing it was hopeless to even try and meet up with the rest of the crew until they were ready to go back to the ship, Emma eventually had to give in and make camp for the night, at Regina's insistence.

Not that it had taken much convincing. They'd fallen into a rare, oddly companionable quiet since the whole earthquake situation – not that she'd ever admit it, but Emma thought it sounded too quiet without the princess' endless offensive blather. And as they trudged together through the ragged jungle, the sky turned from blue to orange and pink and then slowly the riot of colour drained away until there was nothing but grey shadows and starlight.

That was around the time Regina broke the silence to say they should stop for the night. Honestly, Emma was still itching to get to the damn cave, but for once, the brunette was right. They wouldn't be able to see a thing in the dark, and there was no sense in wasting sleep. So Emma didn't even argue. She just knelt in the dirt and started building up a fire.

Eventually, the flames took, licking wreaths of tangerine and blood into the velvet darkness. Emma settled herself the opposite side of it to Regina, digging in her bag for the bread rolls she'd stowed away earlier. The majority of the supplies were with the others, but she wasn't stupid. She leaned back on her elbows and tossed a roll across the fire to Regina. The princess caught it in both hands with an almost-smile.

Emma breathed in. She could smell the smoke of the fire, spiralling into the star-spilled sky. The temperature had dropped suddenly, like it always did in the jungle, but the freshness was invigorating. The faint choir of clicking insects and rustling leaves played on all around them.

Turning her roll absently between her fingers, the pirate let her gaze flicker up across the flames to Regina. The brunette was daintily picking apart her bread, eyes downturned. The fire painted her in warm yellow light, softening her features sending smudged black shadows dancing over her skin.

"Can I ask you a question?" Emma's voice broke the still glassy air before she'd even realized she was going to speak.

Regina lifted her head across the flames, firelight reflected in her shining eyes. She deliberated for a moment. "I get the feeling you're going to ask no matter what I say."

A bizarre warmth spread through Emma's chest, smile curling at the corners of her mouth. "You're leaning." She paused, looking into the flames and wondering how to phrase it. She raised her stare back onto Regina. "Why didn't you want me to take care of your hand earlier?"

"Oh. I don't know." Regina said, voice too precise and measured to be telling the truth. Her gaze flickered to meet Emma's for a second before dancing away, back down to her hands. Emma watched her as the quiet swallowed them up, fire crackling and talking for them. After a while, the brunette cleared her throat and answered, carefully avoiding her gaze. "I didn't want you to think I was weak."

"For bleeding when you got cut?" Emma raised a eyebrow slightly, but he kept her voice soft while her heart sunk.

Regina wrapped her arms around herself defensively. "Yes."

"Okay," Emma said slowly, piecing together an understanding. She paused. "But so you know, that's not weakness, princess. That's biology."

"It was weakness when I was growing up." Regina told her, shivering. She seemed almost uncertain as she spoke, like she didn't know why of if she should even be telling her.

Emma blinked, beating heart growing heavy in her chest. The warmth of the flames washed over her skin, turning their little corner of darkness to smudged orange light. Across the fire, Regina seemed somehow suddenly smaller – more open and more guarded at once. Emma didn't need to press any further. Didn't want to. The implications were enough to make her angry.

"My turn." Regina's voice had softened just ever so slightly.

Emma raised her head, searching the brunette's softly lit face for some explanation. She was distracted by the whole weakness thing – she didn't know why it grated on her so much, but it did. "Your turn for what?"

"I answered your question." Regina shrugged. "It's only fair." She paused, and then lifted her gaze back to Emma. She held her gaze, refusing to shy away. "How did you know my cut would get infected?"

"Well played, princess," Emma blinked, wondering if she was really going to talk like this to this snobby little bitch she didn't even like – but the problem was, with every passing day, she was feeling less like a snobby little bitch she didn't even like and more like Regina. This annoying, human and frankly intriguing woman who she couldn't quite figure out. She opened her mouth, paused, and then started talking.

"I knew because I've seen it happen a lot. Not recently. But when I was younger, and I was working on this slaughter ship, the mate was not a very nice man. He didn't believe in verbal punishment. If he caught you looking at him the wrong way, wasting time, talking back - he'd beat you pretty bad. Alaric – that was where we met, actually – was the first to have a cut go bad. Turned to blood poisoning. It was horrendous. To be honest, if we hadn't docked when he did he might have died. I had a pretty bad one once, but nothing like that. It was just painful for a while."

Regina was staring at her. The flames danced over her skin, reflected in her wide, shining eyes. Her arms were still wrapped around herself but, for probably the first time since they'd met, all her defences had crumbled. For one minute, there were no guards. Emotion was written clearly across her face, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with it. "Why am I getting the feeling that's not all of your mysterious tragic backstory?"

"It's not," Emma replied honestly. There was no point in lying or fucking around or playing games when she'd finally got Regina to stop all that. "But it's all you're gonna hear tonight."

"Okay." Regina accepted, dark eyes bright and trained on hers across the flames. "Then tell me something different. Something not so tragic." She hesitated. "Your son. Tell me about him. If I'm going to be risking my life for this boy I should know something more than that he was taken."

Emma smiled before she could stop herself, even though her heart tightened at he thought. She hadn't talked about him for so long, not out loud. The whole crew knew not to bring up the details. He was part of the family, they worked with her on her quest to get him back but it was a silent kind of devotion. _I_ _t's not the only one._ She breathed in the smell of salt and smoke, lifting her gaze to Regina and letting the smile curl back at her mouth.

"Henry?" She said, watching as Regina suddenly met her stare. "He's a good kid. I mean, he's a scrawny little stick who'll read for days and can't lift a sword to save his life, but he's brave. Smart, too. He –"

"Your son's name is Henry?" Regina repeated, staring across the auburn glow of the spitting flames with parted lips and a strange look shining in her eyes.

Emma nodded. "Yeah."

"My father's name is Henry." Regina told her. A small hint of a smile had crept across her lips, bittersweet.

"Huh." Emma knew it was weird, but for some reason she was looking at Regina and all she could think was of what she'd said, about weakness. "Weird. Almost like fate."

"Almost."

"Your father..." Emma trailed off. She wrapped her arms loosely around her knees in the warmth of the fire. It kept blowing curling red sparks through the black air between them. The ash drifted like memories, scorching snowflakes in the night. The pirate swallowed. She wasn't sure if it was the being alone with her or the heat of the jungle going to her head but she didn't like thinking of the princess in pain anymore, which was strange considering she'd spent most of her time with her picturing punching her in the face. But the world was a strange place. Emma swallowed, paused. "He a good man?"

"The best." Regina replied softly, not missing a beat. In the still thick night, her brown eyes seemed to consider something. "He was never a strong man. I never saw him once stand up to Mother. But he's kind, there was always goodness in his heart." She breathed in, raised her head to find Emma's eyes. "He loved me. That's all I was really looking for."

"Loves you." Emma corrected softly, watching the flames waltz and curl in the night. "A parent never stops loving their child. No matter how far away they are."

Regina blinked, frowning slightly in the firelight. "I think that's true for some people."

Emma lifted her head to stare at her, searching downturned dark eyes for something. The feeling in her stomach was back again, and she was suddenly more aware of her pulse running in her wrists and her throat than she had been before. She didn't like what Regina was implying. She didn't like thinking about it. She felt her mouth open, brows drawing ever so slightly into a frown. "Your mother... She's why you left?"

"I didn't want to marry the king." Regina stated, more to herself than to Emma.

"I figured as much. I was trying to work it out, why you ran from that perfect life." She paused. "Sounds like every little kid's dream."

Regina looked up sharply. Her shining brown eyes never left hers. "It was my mothers' dream." She corrected, and Emma heard the catch in her voice. "Not mine."

"I get it." Emma nodded. This was so weird. The fire was casting flickering warm shadows over her skin, the jungle was rustling in the heavy air all around and apparently the princess was a human being. "I've been there." She confessed. "Sometimes you just have to make a stand, say _this is me. This is who I am. And you can't change me_."

"He wasn't going to change me, he was going to _own_ me." Regina corrected sharply, talking like there was a bad taste in her mouth. "I was going to be his _belonging._ Something he _had_. Like a necklace or a portrait. I'd have no choice, no say in anything to do with my life." She swallowed, frown deepening, avoiding her gaze. "And he was... _old._ I didn't –" Her mouth tightened. "It doesn't matter."

Emma swallowed, jaw clenching. She sought Regina's stare and held on to it very tightly, talking for the first time as one troubled human being to another. "If they come for you, I won't let them take you." She was careful to keep looking at her. "You know that, right?" Regina didn't say anything, so Emma went on. "That's the silent pact we made when you decided to stay. Like I said. Whether we get along or not, on board the Saviour, lost people can find their place. Once you have that place it's yours as long as you want it. Nobody can take that from you."

"Well. That's very kind of you." Regina found her gaze, blinked, and for some reason it didn't feel like she was being completely sarcastic. The brunette paused. "Pirate."

A small grin curled at Emma's lips. "You should get some sleep." She breathed in the smell of the smoke and the dirt and the sea in the distance and let her smile linger. " _Princess_. I'll take watch."

And with the shadow of the starlight on her back, Emma found herself watching Regina fall asleep. There as something almost calming in the rise and fall of her breath, ends of her dark hair stirring in the breeze. It was always hot this time of year round these parts but the humidity was reserved for later months, and the sea brought in a winding sharp wind.

She frowned, gaze darting from the ripple in Regina's oversized shirt, the way her body curled in on itself protectively. And before she knew what she was doing, Emma had stood up, softly shrugging off her coat and moving to kneel beside the brunette in the moonlight. She laid it over her sleeping body gently, so as not to wake her. A while later, still asleep, she saw Regina move to snuggle further into the makeshift blanket and Emma swore she felt something more.

As dawn broke over the jungle, Emma finally forced herself to move from her position beside the dying embers, where she'd sat vigil by Regina all night, thinking.

Honestly, since the first streaks of orange sunrise unfurled across the clouds, she'd been itching to get up and get to the cave, but every time she tried to convince herself this was her plan as captain and the brunette just needed to accept that, every time she tried to wake her she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Emma hadn't noticed the extent before, but Regina was usually so controlled and guarded. Seeing her curled up into herself, dark hair spilled across her face, breathing softly, no defences, no walls, no snarky comments was something she wanted to savour.

Or maybe she was just shutting up for the first time since they'd met and it seemed a shame to wake her up. _Yeah_ , _that must be it._

So instead, Emma grabbed her cutlass and went scouting for breakfast.

It didn't take long before she found some coconuts growing low enough on a tree for her to hack off if she balanced right on a rock. Once she'd managed to saw two free, she took them back to their little camp to cut open, reluctant to be too far from Regina too long. Emma sat back in her position by the smoking embers of their fire, settling back with the first coconut and her cutlass.

Beside her, Regina shifted slightly under Emma's coat, still asleep. A strange detached kind of warmth flowered in Emma's chest. She shook it off, hacking through the top of the coconut until it opened enough for her to tell it was rotten. _Great._ She sighed, tossing the bad one aside and getting started on the second one, not trusting the world enough to hope.

As it turned out, the world had decided not to be a giant jackass for today. The second coconut was perfect – Emma cut it enough to easily handle, and then, with one last reluctant look at the now pale-blue sky, moved closer to the sleeping woman lying beside the cooling fire.

"Hey," Emma whispered, reaching out to shake her shoulder lightly. The brunette groaned, moving her head further against the ground. She shoved her shoulder harder. "Morning." Nothing. Ugh. Why did this woman only respond to insults and snark? Emma almost rolled her eyes, shaking her shoulder again. "Your beauty sleep can wait, princess, we have a cave to find, remember?"

Regina sat up suddenly, hair falling softly around her bleary face. Dark eyes still fogged with confusion darted up, searching Emma's. "Emma?"

"Yeah." Emma stood up, holding out the cut coconut. "Breakfast."

"Oh." Regina blinked several times, sitting up properly to accept the fruit from her. It was only when she had it in her hands that she seemed to realise the worn leather of Emma's coat was clinging to her shoulders. Something shifted behind her wide shining eyes, her lips parted but she didn't say a word. The brunette swallowed, and after a moment Emma swore lasted an age, shook her head slightly, reaching around to disentangle herself from the makeshift blanket, holding it out. "You can have this back."

"Thanks," Emma muttered sullenly, for some reason, leaning forward to snatch the coat back and sling it around her own shoulders. She frowned at herself as she put it on. _Why do I have to make everything insulting and awkward?_ A few days ago, she might have thought the princess deserved it.

Regina gave her a look, before lifting the coconut to her lips and drinking deeply. Emma watched her, fiddling awkwardly with the hilt of her blade and casting anxious looks across the early morning. They needed to get to the crystal cave by the end of the day. Otherwise she might actually kill someone. When she was done, Regina placed the empty shell down beside the ash of their fire, smoothing down her hair and standing expectantly. "Well? Shall we continue our merry quest?"

That, at least, managed to put a half-smile on Emma's face. "Absolutely." She nodded, holding out her arm. "After you, m'lady." She stared. Regina gave her a strange look, so she raised her cutlass with a grin, watching it gleam in the pale early light. "Kidding. Stick by me, princess. We're gonna make it there today. Just you wait and see."

And so they started trudging through the jungle as if nothing had happened, when in actual fact, lots of things had happened.

Unlike yesterday morning, Regina managed to keep up with little difficulty, keeping her head down and only occasionally muttering death threats under her breath. After a while, Emma caught herself listening out for them, almost amused. "What was that?" She asked without thinking, swinging out her cutlass to hack a clearer path through the verdant green brush. They were getting closer to the bare cliff side now – she could see the land dropping off to her left.

"I said that as soon as we get back on your damn boat I'm going to strangle whoever convinced me to join you on this expedition." Regina promised darkly.

"I think that was you." Emma shot her a sideways look as they carried on through the jungle. She could feel a stupid smirk curling at the corners of her mouth. "You know, for such a tiny little woman you're kind of scary."

Regina didn't look at her, but Emma could see her huff out of the corner of her eye. It made her smile. "I'm barely an inch shorter than you." She told her witheringly.

"And also, your hair is very shiny. Like what d'you do, polish it?" Emma turned sideways to her again. She could feel the heat of the sun beating down onto her skin as the day crawled on.

Regina did turn to her then, stopping to cock her head and shoot her a hard-eyed squint. "Was that a compliment?" She demanded, brow and jaw set, half-confused and half incredulous.

Emma paused, opening her mouth and considering for a moment. Then she let the last of the grin curl over her. Her gaze flickered down to Regina's unflinching stare, equal parts smug and amazed. "You want me to compliment you?"

Regina scowled, but Emma was pretty sure she was trying to suppress her own smile. "You are such a insufferable –"

"Cause I can do that. You know what my first thought was when I first saw you? I thought _god, she is beautiful._ " Emma stated, eyes trained on hers. She could hear Regina's breath catch in her throat. "And then you opened your mouth and I wanted to punch you in the face –"

"For your information, pirate, I assure you I felt just the same –" Regina stated hotly, voice rising defensively with the colour in her cheeks before Emma cut her off.

Emma put her hand over her heart, mock-touched. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"You know what –" The brunette rolled her eyes, shooting the pirate a withering stare.

Emma grinned to herself, shouldering roughly past her and wondering at the strange lightness in her chest. "Keep walking,"

"Whatever," Regina muttered. "You're just some stinking pirate."

Emma shot her a look. "And you're my whore, so be quiet an do as you're told."

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?" The brunette cocked an eyebrow.

"That's how it's gonna be." Emma nodded. Regina huffed, jaw clenching as she rolled her eyes and trudged on beside her, pointedly not looking at her. And that was the end of that. Until, of course the silence grew too heavy and she couldn't stop herself. "You sure you're not enjoying this?"

"I don't _like_ you, pirate." Regina told her, glaring sideways with her arms folded, dark hair blowing in the wind.

Emma smirked, shouldering past. "You keep telling yourself that, princess."

From then on, it couldn't have taken more than an hour before they reached... something.

Emma's heartrate had increased with every new crystal they found in the dirt. The path had curved east slightly: they were now walking along the rocky jag of cliff she'd seen as they sailed into port, jungle subsiding to their right. The sun bore down heavily, in sweltering sheets that cooked her mind and boiled her patience down to the bone. Even with her coat tied around her waist, the sheen of sweat gathering on her skin was beginning to piss her off.

But none of that mattered when the last of the jungle cleared, the gaping hole in the jagged clifftop rock caught her eye. Because then her heart was leaping in her hopeful chest, her breath tangled up around her ribs as she broke into a run, closing the last distance between her and the next clue. God, it had taken her so long. Emma stumbled to a stop outside the entrance to the cave, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breath in the swampy heat. A breathless grin curled across her sweaty face.

With a glance sideways at Regina, who had caught up and was peering cautiously at the cave with a sheen of sweat over her olive skin and that murderous annoyance back on her face again. Emma managed to catch her eye and nod once, before taking a slow step closer to the cave.

Inside, the cavern looked dark, but even from there Emma could see the wink of the stones in the sunlight, like stars in the night. She swallowed, heart manic in her chest. _I'm coming, Henry,_ she thought, _I'm coming._

Emma had just taken her last step toward the entrance when a gust of all-too-familiar smoke and a trilling giggle shattered the silence.

"Not so fast, dearies."

Emma and Regina stared up sharply at the same time. Disbelief seized the pirate's heart, crawling over her with fury like fire. Rumplestiltskin was standing in the entrance to the crystal cave, unnatural skin glittering in the sunlight. There was a glint in his snake-like eyes, almost triumphant, almost worried. Emma frowned, stare darting over him, lump in her throat. "Get out of my way, Dark One."

Rumple raised a finger, tilting his head and mock-considering for a second. "Eh, no." He took a measured step forward, sunlight catching on his skin and hair. "Trust me, dearies, I'm doing you a favour."

The Dark One's eyes darted between the two women, with that same strange concern in her eyes. Emma frowned. Almost caution. Almost wariness. "When have you ever done anything for anyone but yourself?" Emma snapped, voice low and brittle with snaking anger.

"It's in none of our best interests for you to go running in there right now. None of ours." Rumple cleared his throat, taking another step towards them. "So why don't you turn around and run back to your little boat –"

"I said get the hell out my way," Emma repeated through her teeth, meeting his stride. She'd come too far. How dare he, how _dare_ this monster who caused every single one of her problems in the first place show up and tell her what was best? He had no right. He never had.

"Emma," Regina's voice was warning, her hand light on Emma's arm.

"Regina, get back." Emma told her firmly, eyes trained on Rumplestiltskin. "I'm not leaving this island without what I need."

A tight, unnerving giggle broke the air. Though a smile had quirked the Dark One's mouth, his eyes were still hard and unsettled. "Oh, I don't doubt that's true, dearie." His stare, bright and nearly manic bored into hers. "But I think I'll lend a helping hand anyway."

And then he raised his hands, snapped his fingers and the world fell down.

Emma shot a panicked stare around as the earth began to shake beneath her feet, vibrations shooting through her bones. All around, rocks were beginning to tumble down the sides of the cliffs, leaves rustling, the sound of stone splitting. She whipped her head around to Rumplestiltskin, but the smoke was clearing and he was already gone.

It was too late anyway. Her collapsing heart was frantic in her chest, rocks were rolling and splitting, deafening. Emma whirled around, trying to keep her balance amid the chaos. But it was too late – the last thing she saw before the hard packed dirt rushed up to smack against her back was Regina dropping to her knees to lean over her, panicked, dark hair lifting in the breeze, eyes wide, and shining. And maybe she was already blacking out and her head as already fogging, but all Emma was thinking was that she was beautiful.

And then the blackness crawled into the edges of her blurring vision, and took over.


	10. Home

**A/N -** Delirious knocked-out Emma is my fave.

 **9\. Home**

When Emma opened her eyes, the first thing she was aware of was the sky above her, endless and impossibly blue.

Her eyes and her mind were still blurry, fogged with fatigue. Her thoughts were sluggish too, heavy and reluctant to connect. She blinked, wincing in the sudden glare of sunlight, too bright against her aching eyes. _What...?_ She let her lead eyelids drop closed again, then managed to open them without too much effort. Her leg hurt. Really hurt. And her forehead...

Emma blinked slowly, staring blindly at the sky and the sun. And then there was something touching her, pressing against her forehead where it hurt. Soft skin brushed over hers, gentle, wrists ghosting across her face, small hands moving softly, delicately. Her mind struggled to piece things together. She summoned the strength to lift her eyelids again, and when she did something heavy shifted in her chest.

There was an angel leaning over her.

Emma stared. The angel was dabbing at her forehead gently with a cool wad of cloth, and in the sunlight her brown eyes seemed flecked and spoked with a thousand shades of gold beneath her purposeful, black eyelashes. Dark hair hung over her shoulders, almost brushing Emma's chest as she gently tended to her wounds. Behind her head the sun shifted in pale spun-gold shafts, spraying like a halo around her. She was _beautiful_.

And then her mind woke up, and she realized the angel was actually _Regina_ , and wanted to punch herself in the goddamn face.

Emma scrambled upright, heart suddenly beating harder in her chest. Her brows drew together into a frown, breath catching in her throat. _What the fuck?_ And suddenly the sky was just the sky, because it must have been midday, and the sun was too hot and her leg killed like a bitch. And something weird was shifting in her stomach, because what the _hell_ had she just been thinking?

"Hey, hey," Regina sat back slightly, mouth set, eyes searching hers cautiously. Her cloth – which, Emma realised, was actually another torn off piece of shirt. _God_. She was going to need to get a whole lot more soon – paused in her hand. "You okay?"

Emma swallowed, trying to look anywhere but her stupid pretty concerned face. "Fine."

"Well that's a lie." Regina told her bluntly. There as a slight furrow between her brows, vein standing out in her forehead, wariness etched plainly on her features. "You've been out for two days. Your leg got hit by a rock when the landslide happened, and your head's cut up too."

Emma sat up properly onto her elbows, wincing in the shifting golden sunlight. Already, she could feel herself starting to sweat. She glanced down at her leg, where Regina had wrapped a strip off torn-off trouser cloth around her calf. The material was dark to start with, but she could make out blacker stains glistening on the fabric. She swallowed, staring back up at Regina.

The brunette shook her head suddenly, reaching for Emma's bag, which had been abandoned a little while away, fishing inside for the water skin. "It rained, while you were out." Regina explained, holding it out to her. "I collected some of the water from those big leaves."

Emma nodded, taking the water skin and drinking deeply. She didn't think brunette would think to do that. Her eyes never left Regina's. "Why didn't you just leave me?"

"I couldn't." Regina stated. She was sitting back on her knees at the pirate's side, cloth in hand.

"Oh," Emma stared.

"Are you serious? Your crew would kill me." Regina paused. "And –"

Emma's heart leapt in her chest, for some reason. She swallowed. "And what?"

"I don't know. Nothing. Shut up and drink your water." Regina stared for half a heartbeat before she blinked and broke Emma's gaze.

A breathless grin curled at the corners of Emma's mouth. She didn't know why, but it made her smile. She settled back on her elbows properly, green eyes flickering over the brunette. "Considering I'm your captain, you tell me what to do a lot."

Regina gave her a look. Emma shut up and drank her water.

-0-

"So we're up on the clifftop to the west of the port. So we need to get down to the beach and walk east until we find the boat. Where the crew will hopefully already be." Regina was saying, trying to make sense of it all in her head. When the landslide hit, the contents of Emma's bag had been flung far and wide – the water skin she'd found, but the map hadn't been so lucky. She was basing her entire knowledge of their whereabouts on a few weeks of listening to pirate prattle and their footprints. She frowned grimly. "If they're still there."

"They will be, trust me." Emma assured her, voice low and still strained with pain. "I know every man on that ship like my own brother, I'd trust any one of them with my life and they know that. They'd never leave me like this."

"Okay." Regina acknowledged. She opened her mouth to press the subject further, but then thought better of it. If it turned out Emma was wrong and they weren't there – well, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. "Do you think you're ready to walk?"

"Course." Emma rushed. Then her green eyes flickered up almost childishly to meet Regina's. "I mean, you'll have to help me."

Regina stared doubtfully. The pirate captain was slumped against the base of a rock, wounded leg propped up in front of her, sweating and muttering, sipping water. Her heart raced at the thought of how bad the injury might actually be. When she'd first seen it she'd been terrified – the blonde's trouser leg had clung to the black pulsing gash so badly she'd had to saw a few inches of cloth off with a broken rock to get to it – and then the sight would have been enough to make her gag, except she wasn't a weak little nothing and she could handle it perfectly.

Honestly, she had no idea what she was doing. This was peasants work! Or rather, physicians work with peasants tools. Not to mention disgusting. However much she loathed magic she had to admit it would have been easier if – _god_. But Regina was a peasant now, practically. Worse: a pirate. That was the price she'd had to pay for her freedom. _So be it_ , she'd thought.

So she'd gritted her teeth and dealt with it.

Well, she'd cleaned it out with some rainwater, copying what Emma had done with her hand, and then wrapped it as best she could with the torn off cloth. Anyway, Emma was awake, alive and her usual obnoxious self, so it had to have worked.

It was just that walking down a cliff on it might not be the best idea in the world.

"Are you sure?" Regina wondered, frowning. "It looks bad, Emma."

" _Princess_." Emma huffed. "It's fine." She caught Regina's stare and held on to it meaningfully, looking right into her eyes. Then she dropped her gaze suddenly, jaw tightening, staring down at the dirt. "This whole trip was a bust. I just want to get off this damned island before – without too much trouble –" She sighed.

Regina nodded. "I understand." She hesitated, casting one last look at the tightly-wrapped wound, before breathing in sharply and shaking off her inhibitions. Since when did she care whether the pirate got herself killed or not? She leaned down slightly, sighing and offering her hand. "Well?"

Emma grinned breathlessly, reaching out to grasp her hand in hers. Her strong, rough fingers gripped her tight, skin clammy as she heaved herself up to her feet. Regina saw her wince immediately, pain creasing her brow and twisting her mouth. Her hands shot out to steady her – not that they'd be much help. "I'm fine, princess." She assured her irritably. "Fine."

"Stop saying that!" Regina snapped, huffing. "What is it with you arrogant pirate types, never able to admit you're human for one minute."

Emma shot her a glare. "You're a fine one to talk."

"Be quiet, pirate." Regina told her briskly, pointedly ignoring everything she didn't feel like dealing with right now. She breathed in slowly. The midday sun was crawling steadily across the heavy blue sky, the jungle casting black shadows over the clifftop. She braced herself, drew in another breath of strength, and moved closer to place her arm tentatively around the pirate captain. She blinked, keeping her voice flat and even. "You need to put more weight on me."

"You're like, four feet tall, princess, I'll crush you," Emma told her, voice scathing and mildly annoyed. But she slid her arm loosely around Regina's waist anyway. Regina could feel the warmth of her skin through their clothes.

"Again with the short jokes?" Regina whipped her head around to stare incredulously. "You're an _inch_ taller than me."

"And don't you forget it." Emma replied meaningfully. But then another pained grimace crossed her face, strained half-groan leaving her lips suddenly. "Shit,"

"Hey," Regina swallowed hard, before pushing back the irrational wave of second hand worry. "This isn't working, I think you need to – move your arm up, a bit. Around my shoulders, so you can lean on me properly."

Emma turned to face her. With their new position, their faces were suddenly absurdly close. Regina could feel her hot laboured breath against her skin, blonde hair tickling. The arm around her waist tightened, holding her purposefully, so she could feel the warmth pressed against her through their clothes, could feel the strength in her. Her heart leapt irrationally in her chest. Then a small grin quirked at Emma's mouth, sparkling in her green eyes. "But I was just getting comfortable."

"Be quiet." Regina shot her a sharp look, ignoring the completely unrelated rush of warmth to her cheeks. "I mean it, put your arm around me and let's go!"

"Ooh. Eager." Emma wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. She smirked again, though her breath was still tight and uneasy. "I like it."

Regina turned to her. "Emma," she said, "I will actually kill you."

"Okay." Emma unwound herself from the brunette's waist, slinging her arm across her shoulders instead. "As my princess desires."

"You are concussed." Regina told her bluntly, shifting slightly to move her own hand up the pirate's back. Then she added, under her breath, "Either that or you're more annoying than I thought, which I didn't know was possible, but –"

"The second one." Emma managed, voice strained. "Definitely aware – shit –"

"Hey – hey," Regina strengthened her hold on the pirate as best she could, feeling the strong arm wrap heavier around her shoulders, laboured breathing in her ear. "Put more of your weight on me."

This time, Emma didn't complain.

Instead, she gripped Regina tighter, releasing a long stucco breath. And taking her first limping step, in time with her. They started out that slow, struggling over every rock and every crevice on the cruel path. There was a road cut into the rock, leading down the cliff to the beach, if you could call it that.

Ankle-twistingly steep, driving down mercilessly for so long and then jerking sideways without warning and twining around awkward corners and double loops. Not to mention that the whole path was littered with driftwood and fallen debris from the landslide. To their left, the cliff dropped off suddenly, uneven chunks and open air. Regina tried not to look down.

It didn't help that Emma's physical strength greatly outweighed hers. Regina had thought she was stronger than average, because of her horse riding, but that was stupid. She could see that clearly now. She could argue about it all she liked but the truth was she was less physically able than Emma.

And now she was attempting to support her as they walked down a death trap cliff path. And carry the damn bag at the same time.

So they started slow. Slow and painful, stopping every few minutes for one or both of them to catch their breath. But eventually, somehow, they fell into a kind of rhythm, steadily gaining speed as they made their way down the cliff side.

It was strange. Regina had been put off all day after the pirate had fallen on top of her for a few seconds, but this constant entanglement didn't feel awkward, or embarrassing or weak. Grunting and huffing in each others pained grasp in the sunlight, working perfectly in tandem, it was just what they had to do.

Eventually, the sharp twining slope evened out, and after a final scrambling drop, Regina felt her narrow boots sink into the wet rocky sand.

Regina couldn't help but sigh in relief. Her bones were shot with fatigue, every muscle aching, the wound on her hand was itching like mad. They shouldn't have – by all logic, they shouldn't have made it – but they did. Regina couldn't help it: she unwound her aching arm from Emma, taking a moment to gather her heavy breath in her lungs.

Emma staggered backwards, panting. Pain was still etched in the lines of her face, but there was something almost like triumph glittering in her green eyes. It put a strange breathless smile on Regina's face.

"You good?" Emma managed, voice scraped thin and rough.

Regina nodded. The sun had been cruel all day, and a fine layer of sweat still clung to her skin, sticking her clothes against her back. Just a few days ago that alone would have been enough to rant about. _Strange_.

She shook her head, swallowing. The sun was going down now anyway, or rather, preparing to. The wide sky was tinged lilac, orange clouds blushing salmon and fading as the light turned pale and thin, and evening crept in on the salty air.

Just the sound of the ocean, loud and close, just a few metres down the rocky grey beach, was enough to make her heart sigh with relief. The sight of it, seething and endless, heaving up and down, tossing dark blue waters edged in lacy foam out onto the shoreline and dragging them back, was strengthening.

 _Oh good lord, Regina thought,_ _I'm half a pirate_. But it wasn't a worse thought that being half a queen, and the whole scenario was ridiculous enough for hysteria to bubble up in her chest. Somehow, she suppressed the urge to laugh.

"We need to get back to the ship," Regina managed, tossing her gaze over the beach to catch Emma's eyes. Now they were back on the coast, the wind was threading through her hair, throwing dark handfuls across her face.

Emma held her gaze and nodded, face contorted with pain and relief and determination. Then, as Regina trudged back over to her, a small smile played over the pirate's lips. She held her arm out, ready. And it was so ridiculous, Regina had to laugh too.

Then she slipped into place, the side of her body pressed against the side of Emma's, summoning all the strength she had to force her protesting muscles back to work.

Walking over the stones was considerably harder than flat ground, and damp gritty sand wasn't much better, but they didn't really have a choice. So they got on. They got on until, beyond the curve of the beach, the familiar shape of the wooden hull silhouetted against the blazing sunset came into view.

Regina's heart leapt at the sight, muscles drawing new strength from it, blood dancing. A grin spread over her face, her blood was dancing. She could feel it in Emma, too, see the curl of her matching grin out of the corner of her eye, feel the new resolve in her ragged breath. They walked the rest of the way, gradually gaining speed until the were half-running, half-staggering for the dusky-lit port.

In the distance, Regina's gaze snagged on the black silhouettes of figures, pacing the tiny port. Her heart soared, and she opened her mouth but no words came from her raw throat. She swallowed, clearing her throat again before shouting,

"Hey!"

"Hey!" She shouted again, waving her free hand as best she could.

Emma caught on then, adding her own rough shouts. Two of the figures turned to face them, sprinting over the beach until Regina could squint enough to make out Alaric's face, and her whole body nearly collapsed in relief.

 _Well_ , she thought to herself, staring over at Emma with a grin fixed to her face, eyes wide and relieved and stuck on hers, _hell must have frozen over, because here I am. Happy to see these pirates._

-0-

It was in the soft torchlight of the smudged starry night that Emma found herself outside the door to Regina's cabin once again.

There was a heaviness in her heart, but it was a good heaviness. A good slow steadiness to the breath that found and left her lungs. Surrounded by the familiar creaking wooden walls of her ship, wrapped in the soft-edged night and the smell of dust and salt and cinnamon was like being in the right skin again. A faint smile crossed her lips. Like home.

And just as she'd made a home for herself out of wood and nails and cloth, she couldn't help thinking she'd made a home for someone else too. Because without even realising, she'd started thinking of the little stateroom as _Regina's cabin._

It was strange to think they'd arrived back at the ship only a couple of hours ago. It felt like days. And days further since she'd staggered down the cliff path, gripping the annoying brunette for dear life. When Alaric found them, he'd taken most of the weight off Regina's shoulders, helping them both back to the Saviour quicker. Once they were back on board, Fallor, who had been a healer's boy once, dressed her leg properly and she'd spent a while cleaning up, changing her clothes. Giving everyone a brief version of what had happened.

Why she was no closer to finding her son.

She'd let herself cry once she was alone in her cabin. Let herself cry and rage, but for some reason when she'd normally reach for a bottle of rum or whiskey, she just... Didn't.

Emma felt peaceful now. She felt peaceful, slow, steady like the ship around her. Yes, she was angry. She was angrier than she'd been in a long time, and more confused too, because both those emotions seemed to mount every day. She didn't know what she was going to do now about the Fortune's North, and Henry – she was all of those things and yet just in that moment, waiting outside the door in the night glow, she felt peaceful.

She raised her hand to knock softly on the wooden door.

She heard footsteps, and then the door swung quietly open. Regina was standing in the doorway, wearing the papery nightgown Emma had dug out of one of the chests on the Bluebird for her. Her dark hair was loose, hanging over her shoulder and shining in the soft candlelight. Emma waited for her wide dark eyes to lift and meet her gaze.

She let the hint of a smile ghost over her mouth. Emma blinked, cleared her throat, and ducked her head slightly. She wanted to be polite, like the woman was used to, make her feel comfortable, but she didn't have a clue about rich people manners. She cleared her throat. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Regina nodded, turning her head to lead the blonde into the little cabin.

Emma closed the door carefully behind her. Inside, the air was thick and heavy with heartbeats and candlelight. She could hear her heart beating in her temples. The pirate swallowed, turning to block the princess' path, so they had to stand and look at each other. She sought her eyes, holding it, green gaze burrowing into brown. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," Regina replied, articulate. She lifted her eyes to her. In the light of the candles and the softness of the night, all her hard edges had been erased. All of her defences had been lowered, if temporarily. For once, Emma thought she was beginning to see inside. And she thought she just might like what she saw.

The smile crept across her lips then. "I'm glad." Emma's breath congealed in her lungs, smile fading in place as she just looked at Regina's brown eyes, watching and thinking and feeling that weird feeling in her chest again. She cleared her throat. "I wanted to thank you. For saving my life back there."

Regina's lips parted, eyes seeming to search for the right thing to say. She raised her stare back to Emma's, not exactly smiling, but not exactly not either. "It was the least I could do." The brunette paused, eyes darting down to the floor. She was clearly considering something. Eventually, she lifted her gaze back up to Emma's eyes, taking a step towards her. Her dark eyes were shining with some strange emotion, candlelight painting a soft glow over her olive skin. Regina swallowed, and bit her lip ever so slightly. "You've done more for me in these past weeks than anyone has, ever." A small, slow smile quirked over her lips. "I'll deny this in the morning, but I don't want you to die."

Emma felt the grin spread across her chest before her mouth. "It's a start."

When she closed the door behind her, she took a moment before making her way to her own cabin, head full of thoughts.

 _Who'd have thought?_


	11. Break On Through

**A/N -** I know this chapter is a short one for Riptide but you're getting a double update today. I'm feeling generous...

 **10\. Break on Through**

"Come on, _come_ _on_ ," Emma slammed her aching hands down on the desk in frustration. "Something!"

She sighed, collapsing back in her chair. This was all ridiculous. Some fools' errand she couldn't bring herself to stop, because of stubbornness and hatred and worst of all, that tiny glimmering sliver of hope that kept her from just grieving like a normal person and moving the hell on.

They'd returned from that damn island three days ago, and she was no closer to finding her son. Emma didn't trust Rumplestiltskin any more than she'd trust a shark, but what he'd said about Hook and the Bluebird, and Regina... It seemed like he'd been helping. Which, you know, _thanks a lot_ , he caused the problem in the first pace, but still. He was a walking contradiction: he'd never made sense, why should he start now?

So maybe the Dark One had been right. Maybe the cave was bullshit. And if that was the case... Maybe there was something else on the map.

Or maybe Regina was right and she was just a bigger idiot than she thought.

Emma blew the hair back from her face, snatching the map off the desk and narrowing her eyes at the fading lines and curling script. _Fancy_. _Ugh_. She'd been staring at it for so long now that she barely saw any of it, just a blue-grey blur of squiggles and bullshit. Her eyes ached.

She winced, shooting a sideways glance at the desk drawer with the whiskey lying waiting inside. _Can I...?_ Emma considered. To feel the burn in her throat, her stomach, the distraction of it. The anaesthesia. She could just open the drawer and pull it out and –

 _No_.

No.

Emma sat up straighter in her chair, staring at the map as the lines swam into focus in front of her eyes. No. She'd just said no. Her whiskey bottle was lying in the drawer, still, untouched, collecting dust. And she was here, with her brain working and her pain switched on and maybe she'd make a breakthrough. Because she said no.

A faint smile ghosted over her lips. She never said no. Even when she was a kid, pickpocketing and lying and sleeping with a dagger in her hand, she never said no. But she had. Emma swallowed, running a finger over the map. She'd said no, because she needed to be okay for this, for Henry. For Alaric and Sal and the rest of her crew. For Regina.

The thought of the damned princess almost had her smiling again. The days since they'd returned she'd been around, with soft eyes and no anger behind her complaints. In fact, when Regina made her snarky comments now it almost seemed nice, an inside joke between the two of them. Regina, who met her eyes across the fire and let slip her fears. Regina, who had tore her shirt to bandage her wounds while she slept, who had the initiative and intelligence to gather rainwater for them to drink, who had the willpower to half-carry her down to the beach and back home. Emma never knew she had it in her.

Regina.

Then it clicked – _Regina_. The notes she'd made, when she studied the map. Emma still had them. Heart speeding up against her ribs, she lunged forward, scrabbling for the next desk drawer, yanking it open. Amidst the junk and memories, was a scrap of parchment covered with pretentious looping script.

"Yes," Emma heard herself breathe, scanning the paper as quick as she could.

Regina had scrawled _Pre-'22 Dwarfish? Hidden coded numerology?_ first, which Emma didn't really get. She assumed that was one of the manor estate education things. But then came the actual, stunted deciphering. She swallowed, breathing in light, hopeful air as she read. _Follow. To seek. Pure. CRYSTAL. 21 7 33?_

Emma's heart leapt at the number. It so obviously related to the map's code and yet... She frowned, snatching up the map and staring again, frantically scanning the two lines of writing. The numbers... Now they were pointed out she could see them, in that order, hidden, written into the letters.

God, she'd had this the whole _fucking_ time? The whole time, and she couldn't see? She dropped back against her chair for a second, stubby fingernails biting angrily into her palms. The whole time, she'd been that _blind_? _Not the point_. Not the point – that number – every digit brought her closer to her son. _Thank God for Regina._

Emma snatched the paper again, holding it up beside the map. A spill of pale gold light from the window fell across the parchment, lighting up the dust motes swirling through the air. She narrowed her eyes, searching. That number was what, half a coordinate? _Maybe_. Emma frowned, heartbeat throbbing in her wrists. What she didn't know was how that translated to the map.

Knife-edge hope drummed through her racing pulse. She held her breath, scrambling for the weathered old compass the other side of her desk, setting it anxiously. Her eyes raced over the map. The air seemed to be crackling now. She was on the brink of something – perhaps the same old crushing disappointment, fear, anger, self-hatred.

Perhaps not.

It took a while, a long anxious while of the compass spinning and the map sitting casting shadows on her desk, looking at her with all the answers written across it, before Emma realised. In fact, it took long enough that her hands were beginning to itch for a bottle again. Long enough that her mind was wandering, replaying the events of the island over and over.

And she was thinking about that humid night with the cold wind and the smell of salt and jungle all around, and how Regina had looked when she smiled at her across the campfire, and how she'd moved into Emma's jacket when she'd put it around her – and then she looked back at Regina's handwriting.

She felt the small furrow appear between her brows.

Emma leaned forward over the desk, pulling the map toward her. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared. 21... 7... 33... They were map points. Heart racing, she glanced toward the graph line along the bottom of the map. The letters.  
Barely daring to breathe, she put her finger over the C point and let it move up to 21. There was an island. And then, heart in her throat, point R 7. Y 33. All islands, or coves, or dunes. Somewhere they could go. Now, she didn't know the rest of the numbers; those, she was sure, she'd find along the way. But she knew the rest of the letters – those she knew. CRYSTAL. In that order.

Emma pushed back from the desk before her mind caught up, scrambling across the cabin with her breath ragged and her heartbeat frantic, sparkling and bubbling over. She tore through the door. _I'm coming Henry. I'm coming_.

-0-

Beyond the figurehead, the ocean was perfectly calm and flat, dully shimmering silver like a window or maybe a mirror.  
Regina stared out across the water with her hands resting on the rail beside the figurehead and a calm feeling settling like dust in her lungs. It stretched all the way to the horizon in all directions, a sealed bubble of soft lapping sounds of water against wood and bright salty air.

She suddenly found herself thinking of all those nights growing up, laced into ridiculous gowns in stuffy ballrooms, struggling to breathe or think clearly in the stifling airless heat: how out here, surrounded by coarse shouting outlaws, dressed in peasant's cast-offs, with the fresh ocean air in her lungs and the feel of the gently shifting deck beneath her feet, she'd never breathed clearer.

 _Strange to think what's become of me_.

She drummed her fingers against the wood absently. It had been days now since the Emma shut herself in her cabin, studying the map, probably drinking. Regina made a huffing noise in the back of her throat, not that anyone was around to hear. She sighed, gaze lowering to the distant horizon.

Emma had been understanding enough when she'd come to thank her, but she knew that would have passed too quickly. The bottom line was, the island was a dead end. Rumplestiltskin interfered, like he always did, and that little boy was still so far from his mother.

And Emma... Emma had to act like the perfect strong captain for everyone around her but she was crushed completely, it was written clearly in her eyes. That yearning for Henry, for the child that had been taken... She could only imagine. Regina sighed. She wondered if anyone was looking for her the way they were all looking for him – for anything more than duty or anger. Frankly, she doubted it.

"Regina!"

She whipped around, heart leaping in her chest at the familiar shout. "Emma," Regina called, voice breathless as the wind snatched it up and tossed it away.

The captain was running at her with her blonde hair flying in the grey breeze, face lit up with the most real smile she'd ever seen. The happiness in her eyes worked like the firelight, softening her. She looked beautiful when she was happy. Regina resisted the urge to run and meet her, letting the pirate skid to a stop in front of her, chest rising and falling heavily with her breath. She could feel the start of a smile dancing in her chest before she even said anything – just the look on her face told her enough.

"I did it," Emma told her softly, earnestly, grin curling at the corners of her open mouth. An incredulously happy light shone behind her green ocean eyes, softening and emphasising her whole face. She was close enough for Regina to shiver at the feel of her breath just slightly brushing over her skin. "I did it, Regina, I worked it out. The crystals – they're not stones, they're coordinates." There was almost disbelief in her gentle voice. "I did it."

Regina felt her own smile ignite in her chest before it reached her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but Emma cut her off. Blonde hair streaming out in the wind, Emma leaned closer, grin widening, warm hands finding purchase on Regina's waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her heart leapt.

" _We_ did it," Emma corrected, wide eyes trained on hers. "Your notes – Regina, you're a genius!"

"So we can do it?" Regina heard herself say, blood racing, cool air flowing over her skin. She was still staring up into the pirate's overjoyed face. "The clues are achievable. We're going to find Henry?"

"Yes!" Emma nodded, green eyes shining. "Yes, we are!"

It was the first time she'd seen the captain completely free of guards or walls or angry muttering, completely open. Regina stared at her, taking it in because she knew it had to last her til whenever the next time was and wondering if she owed her the same courtesy. Her whole life had been built on walls and defences but... if this pirate could be open for one moment in a sea of snappy comments then so could she.

After all, Regina never could let Emma beat her.

"Emma... that's _wonderful_." Regina told her, honestly. Emma's hands were warm against her waist, through the cloth of her shirt. And suddenly her heart was racing like crazy, like a it was a magnet and the pirate was solid gold. She scarcely dared to breathe. The air was crackling, full of raw dancing sparking energy, like magic, like hope. Her bones felt like kindling about to catch alight. "I –"

"Regina?" Emma was looking at her strangely, brow furrowed, lips parted, wide green eyes flashing and shining intensely. Her voice was already breathless. "Can I..."

Emma never finished her sentence.

She didn't know who moved first, but suddenly Emma was pulling her closer and her fingers were tangling into blonde hair and before either of them had time to think their lips were meeting, sealing into the kiss.

Regina's breath barely had time to hitch before she instinctively pushed herself into Emma, wrapping her arms tentatively around her neck, moving her head back against her lips. Her lips – warm and chapped and gentle against hers.  
Where they touched radiated heat, sent shivers racing over her skin and sparking through her bones. Emma caught her with equal fervour, arms wrapping firmer around her waist, pulling her tight against her. All over her, nerve endings she never knew existed burst to life, like bubbles popping, glass shattering. And then her heart was soaring, her lips were moving and the sound of the ocean all around and the slow flowering warmth unfurling through her chest was all there was.

Emma tightened her arms around her waist. Her eyelashes brushed her cheek. Regina's arms wound around her neck, pressing herself closer. In the fierce tearing wind, her dark hair was whipping around her, tangling with Emma's frenzied blonde in the crisp grey air around them. Regina tilted her head sideways, noses bumping, exploratory mouths moving in tandem.

Her stomach flipped, blood surged, heavy and slow and racing and crashing lightening-fast all at once. Regina didn't have a clue what in hell's name they were doing, but she couldn't stop – lips pressing and taking, soft and frenetic and out of time, hearts beating like wild things in their rib cages. Emma moved her mouth harder against hers, more confidently, and her insides melted. She could feel her pulse jump in her cheek, their tangled hair brushing over her wind-chafed skin.

There was a stirring in her blood now, shifting and roiling like the ocean in her stomach and maybe this was what she'd felt all those times before: this fire catching in her bones, this riptide in her veins.

Eventually, when her lungs were burning they pulled back at the same time, lips parting with a soft sound like hope. Half a moment snagged on flowing time, half a moment before Emma let her go, and Regina were just staring, breathless, nose brushing hers as her hair whipped frantically around them, and those wide green eyes were all she saw.

Then Emma's arms loosened around her waist slowly, until she could feel deck beneath her feet again. Regina blinked, feeling a frown begin to furrow her brow, chest rising and falling heavily as her ragged breath fell back into a rhythm. The air was cold and smelled of salt, soothing over her burning skin.

 _What the hell did we just do?_

Emma was gaping at her, breathless, eyes wide. Her blonde hair streamed through the air like a pale banner, long coat snapping in the wind. She nodded, awkwardly, mouth open. "I should – the coordinates – the crew –"

Regina nodded, searching for any two words to string together. They all hung just out of reach. So she swallowed, nodded again and watched the captain turn and run across the deck, blinking in the tearing sea air and wondering what in hells name just happened.


	12. Safe

**A/N –** The second bill of your double update, in which I hit my own heart. All the tropes for my gay pirate babies!

 **11\. Safe**

They docked just off the shore of the island which landed on the first coordinate a few days later.

When Emma had looked at the map closer, compared it to the others, she'd made a breakthrough – she'd been there before. A lot. Particularly after she'd become captain. For the first year or so, she'd drifted back and forth. She knew people there – people she trusted, people who had informed for her before. Hopefully they would again.

It was also a few days after she'd kissed Regina. So yeah.

That had happened.

Emma didn't have a fucking _clue_ what was going on with that – afterwards, she'd focused on sailing the Saviour to this island just for a distraction, and some time to think, although she was pretty sure her heart still hadn't gone back to normal. Or maybe that was just the new hope. Either way, Regina had decided the best way to handle it was to simply avoid her. She'd had a few awkward, encouraging looks across the deck but that was the extent of it.

Which had been working pretty well, until now – now, they had to go carry on their quest together.

Dusk was just falling, soft and heavy across the world as went ashore. There were a few – like Regina, and Alaric – who Emma had wanted with her when she went to see if her allies were still around, and a few who, as always, had just wanted a night ashore and a hot meal. There was no point going until tomorrow, so once they rowed ashore Emma led them all to the little tavern on the seafront.

A faint warmth curled at the corners of her mouth as she pushed through the door into the stuffy orange light of the common room. She'd spent some good times here growing up: some of her only good times growing up.

Inside, everything was just as she'd left it last time, roughly cut trestle tables and chairs crammed in too tight, the smell of mead and stew in the thick air, someone playing music out of key in the corner. Emma smiled, glancing around for Helena or Bram, but there was nobody she recognised. _I'm practically a stranger here now._

She glanced behind her, caught sight of Regina hanging around the outskirts of their little crowd, dark hair shining in the torchlight and felt almost glad. The person she was last time she was here, well – that wasn't her anymore.

Emma shook away her train of thought, worming between chairs and drunk people to claim a table for them. "We're leaving at dawn tomorrow." She called, over the din. "So if you're coming with me, you're staying here tonight. That means you, Alaric."

"Right-o, Captain," Alaric yelled, from where he was already making his way to the bar.

Emma grinned despite everything. Who knew? Maybe this place would be the one. "I'll join you," Sal added, swinging back in his seat like a toddler, stupid lopsided grin on his face. "I'd never pass up an opportunity to see Kestrel, even if it is only for a map."

"Yeah, she still hates you," Emma reminded him. "But if you think you can handle it..." He matched her smile and she nodded. "If I can't get you a room you're sharing with Alaric."

"That is not a problem," Sal remarked, eyebrow raised. He winked. "He doesn't snore."

"I don't wanna know." Emma grinned: the warmth in her chest spread a little. Honestly, she'd been wondering about those two and their back-and-forth banter for years. Standing beside the table, she cast a glance toward the bar, making sure there was someone there. Then, finally, she forced herself to catch Regina's gaze, motioning for her to come with her.

Regina glanced over her, nodding lightly before rising from her seat at the end of the table and following Emma's mad path through the room. The tables and chairs were so closely packed she could feel her brush against her a few times.

"If it's fine with you I think we're gonna have to share a room," Emma told her, words sticking in her throat. "But not like that! I don't want you to feel weird about it but... We might have to. For safety." She lowered her voice, falling beside the brunette as the approached the bar. "If anyone recognises you –"

"I understand," Regina nodded, voice low and tense. "It's fine."

"Should be clear. As long we're not using your real name," Emma reminded her. "You know the drill. If anyone asks, just say –"

"I'm your whore?" Regina shot her a look. "Got it."

"Not what I was going to say," Emma muttered, slightly annoyed _. God, this is awkward._ "But safety first." She tried not to think too much – there were a thousand bridges they could quite easily cross when they came to them. "Hey," She drummed her fingers absently on the bar, catching the bartenders eye. "You got any rooms left?"

The man nodded gruffly, running his fingers through his beard. "Two doubles."

"That's perfect." Emma nodded, digging in her cloth bag for her leather coin purse. "We'll take both. And can we get two pints of –"

"I don't want anything." Regina interjected.

Emma sighed theatrically, rolling her eyes at the bartender. "O _kay_ , can I get _one_ ale since apparently princess here –"

Regina shot her a withering sideways look, and she shut up. They stood in growing awkward silence as the man poured her drink and fetched their keys. By the time Emma paid wordlessly, heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach, her cheeks were burning with heat.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, a blur of stuffy orange air and good thick ale and her crew laughing all around her. The prospect of a new lead had cheered them all considerably – it gave her a warm feeling in her chest, how dedicated they all were to helping her.

The same feeling she had before, whenever she'd see Sal telling Henry stupid jokes to make him laugh, or Alaric carrying him around on his shoulders, ever the gentle giant, or Wren trying to teach him to play chess, when all he wanted was to play pretend games with the pieces. The feeling that Henry would never be alone, or without a home, never feel the way she did when she was a kid.

Emma swallowed, taking a long drink from her tankard. When she put it back down on the table, she managed to catch Regina's eye across the table. The brunette was sitting quietly, staring at the table with a slight frown. She wondered what she was thinking about.

It was so strange. Even now, Emma was sure she was beginning to understand her. Just a few days ago they'd been all smiles, thinly-veiled flirting and gratitude – now... This awkward snappiness, this sudden regression... All because of _the_ _kiss_.

She swallowed hard, swilling her drink around the cup and staring into it. She'd barely stopped thinking about it since it happened – she was pretty sure the image of Regina, barely an inch away, dark eyes bright and staring, lips parted and breathless in the wind, was seared into the back of her eyelids. And that tingling in her blood that hadn't stopped for hours after, the feel of her eyelashes brushing against her cheek as her soft, full lips parted beneath hers and –

 _What the fuck, Swan?_ Emma frowned, taking a deeper drink. _The hell have you got yourself into this time._ Honestly. She didn't know.

Emma didn't really speak to her again until Alaric and Sal had gone to find their room and the others began dropping off one by one, going back to the ship. Emma breathed in, ignoring the stares the few remaining gave her and catching Regina's eye. "I'm going up." She announced. "You wanna come now or will I be waiting up for you?"

Regina sighed, casting one last look at the table before standing up abruptly. "I'll come now."

So they took their key and climbed upstairs, followed by a chorus of suggestive shouts from the crew, which Emma thought was weird, considering she never said anything to _them_ about the whole prostitute routine.

Inside the room, the next problem became immediately clear.

 _I can't catch a break._ As they stood side by side, door swinging shut behind them, she surveyed the issue. Emma breathed in, and then made her decision without looking at Regina. "I'll take the floor." She decided. And then, with a slight sideways glance at her, added, "I'm sure you're more comfortable with fancy beds."

"Don't be a martyr, Swan, it doesn't suit you." Regina countered immediately. She turned to stare back at the bed – singular. Apparently when the man said double, he meant the mattress size. "There's more than enough room for both of us."

Emma stared, startled. "You mean..." She struggled, searching for the right words with an irrational heat crawling over her cheeks. "Me in bed... With you?"

"Yes, that's the general idea." Regina explained, as if she was so slow.

"I'm a pirate." Emma said stupidly.

"I'm well aware." Regina remarked, eyebrow slightly cocked.

Emma stared, confused and bemused. "Alright then."

"Okay." Regina clarified, breathing sharply and taking a step further into the little room. She hooked the strap of the bag Emma had given her over her head, placing it on the bed and opening it carefully. Emma just stood there, not quite sure what to do with this new information.

Regina twisted her head around suddenly, expectant expression on her face. "Turn around, will you? I need to get changed."

"Oh." Emma stared, gaping slightly. "Right."

She turned around so she was facing the door again, swallowing hard around the lump in her suddenly tight throat. Emma didn't usually wear anything different to sleep in, for practicality and protection, but she guessed that was another fancy princess thing. She was suddenly more aware of the breath in her lungs. Behind her, she could hear a rustling noise, hear Regina breathing.

It seemed like a thousand agonising years later Regina cleared her throat and told her, "You can turn around now." Emma did, nodding awkwardly and pretending that fresh waves of heat weren't still prickling up her neck. Regina glanced over her, dark eyes shining in the dim light. "What, you're shy?"

It took her a moment to realise she meant her clothes. "Disgusting unhygienic pirate, remember?" Emma forced a lopsided grin. "I'll get changed in the morning."

"Right," Regina nodded. They stood in complete silence for a moment, air thick and heavy between them. "So, shall we just..."

"Yeah –" Emma nodded, dropping down onto the end of the bed to pull her boots off, setting them down with her jacket and bag beside it. "Um – which side do you –"

Regina sat down on the bed, watching with bright curious eyes and a hint of a smirk as Emma awkwardly moved up beside her, climbing under the covers. "You know, for a notorious pirate captain, you are really bad at this."

Emma shot her a look. "Maybe you're just throwing me off."

"That's what they all say," Regina countered, moving beneath the covers.

"Good _night_ , princess," Emma snapped, ruffled. She heard Regina make a muffled sound into the pillow, but she didn't say anything else. And so the silent darkness came down all around them, and Emma stared at the ceiling while an enigma of an almost-queen fell quietly asleep beside her.

Emma never slept easily – not even when she was a kid, certainly not when she worked on that damn boat, not when she'd always, _always_ had to be on _constant_ alert – but ever since she'd lost Henry she might as well have changed that to _never slept._ Which, she guessed, was better than when she did and woke more tired than she was in the first place from leaden dreams filled with blood and anger.

And that was on board the Saviour, where she was at her most comfortable. So she didn't even _expect_ to catch more than an hour or so lying on a hard pallet in a musty inn on the most important quest of her life, a few inches away from the snappy princess she'd kissed not three days past.

She just shifted around until she was comfy, and stared at the ceiling in the darkness, thinking about the map and tomorrow and listening to Regina's breath slow and relax as she fell asleep the other side of the bed. Emma ran through her last meeting with Kestrel in her head.

The girl had been informing for her for god knows how long, since they'd met on one of Emma's stopovers when she'd just become captain. She was practically a genius with maps and charts, the daughter of a cartographer and an explorer – she'd managed to decipher everything Emma brought her before. But that was if she even still lived here. Emma hadn't seen her for years.

Since Henry was taken, she hadn't had the time for anything else. She sighed into the darkness.

It must have been hours later when she heard the first whimper. Low and broken and a few inches to her left.

Emma's brows knitted into a frown. She turned her head on the crumpling pillow, staring. Her eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of _something_. Emma could hear her breath falling lightly from her parted lips, her own heartbeat in her temples. In the dark, she could pick out the silhouette of Regina's small body, shadow against shade. When her eyes adjusted she could see the dark hair spilled across her face, see her moving slightly beneath the heavy covers.

 _What the...?_ Another sound broke the air, more like a sob. It shattered the quiet and spilled down the air. Emma's heart contracted with anger, impulsive defensiveness at the sound. She swallowed hard, breath caught in her throat as fury filled her up. _What the hell's going on?_

"Regina," Emma whispered, sharp and insistent in the dark. Panic was rising in her blood, seizing her heart with icy fingers. But by that point Regina was moving her head against the pillows, squirming and gasping like she was in pain and Emma thought there would never be a sound that could hurt her so much but then Regina started talking and proved her wrong.

"No, Mama," She was murmuring in her low broken voice, thick with pain and muffled against the cushions. The fury lodged sharp and jagged in Emma's chest darkened. She grabbed Regina's shoulder without thinking, skin feverishly warm under hers, shaking. Regina flinched away from her touch with a cry, burying her head in the pillows.

The low choking sounds filled the still black air above them, and Emma didn't know why but she could feel the burn of tears behind her own eyes as she stared, lips parted, face flushed, blood ice, willing her to _just wake up._ Suddenly the covers were to heavy, she was too hot, skin prickling, and Emma was almost shocking herself. The hatred spilling through her blood was black and absolute.

"Mother, stop, please stop, it hurts," Regina's shaking voice was rising, writhing more and more beside her as she sobbed. Emma stared, horrified, helpless. "Mother, please, you're hurting me, please stop, I promise I'll be good, Mother, please –"

Not able to take anymore of it, Emma launched into action, swallowing hard around the lump of tears in her throat and moving to pull her into her arms. The last thing she wanted was to make her feel trapped or confined but she didn't know what else to do.

"Hey, hey, it's not real, 'Gina," Emma hushed, struggling to keep her own voice level. She stared up into the night fighting back her own tears as Regina struggled against Emma's chest. "She's not here, 'Gina, you're safe, it's just me, I've got you." Emma repeated, a desperate whisper. She held her tight, and slowly, slowly felt her slow to stillness against her. "I've got you."

And then the night was quiet and still again, and all she could hear was her breathing and Regina's breathing gradually going back to normal, and their hearts beating out of time. Without thinking, Emma's hand came up to cup the back of Regina's head, stroking her hair gently. She could feel Regina's hands fisted in her shirt, barely there at first but then clinging on hard. "You hear my heartbeat?" Emma asked softly. "You just focus on that. Just focus on that."

Eventually, she felt Regina stir in her arms, steadying breath amplified in the aching quiet. Her tight fists released Emma's shirt awkwardly: she could feel her arms moving, distancing herself. Emma let her go immediately, sensing that she wanted to get away. "Hey," Emma was shocked by the softness in her own voice. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry." Regina's voice filled the air, low and heavy. There was still a slight tremor there. "I didn't know that was going to happen."

"Don't you dare apologize," Emma warned softly. There was a defensive fury growing in the pit of her stomach, flipping and heaving. "It's _her_ that should be apologising."

"Don't." Regina cut her off, rolling over and settling against the pillows with her back to her. Emma heard her exhale heavily, the rustle of the covers against her body as she laid there.

So Emma didn't. She just nodded, gaze dropping to the creases in their musty shared blanket, painful understanding coursing through her blood as she laid her head back against the pillow and listened attentively to Regina's breathing.

-0-

As a slice of pale lilac dawn cut through the milky window pane to fall across the bed, Regina awoke for the second time in Emma's arms.

She opened her eyes blearily, blinking herself awake in the dusty dawn light. Clinging tendrils of sleep fell quickly from her mind, as always, awareness settling over her. Regina tensed instinctively at the feel of it – the soft weight of an arm slung across her middle, the warmth of another person pressed against her back, bare feet touching. She breathed slowly, air reluctant to come or go from her lungs. Soft hair brushed over her shoulder.

Regina glanced over her shoulder as best she could without waking Emma up – the pirate was still asleep. Something tightened in her stomach. Asleep, with her lips slightly parted and her eyes closed, blonde hair falling all over the place: it was the first time she'd ever seen her look so relaxed. Calm. For once, she looked her age. She looked peaceful - beautiful. Regina blinked softly, unable to stop the slight smile ghosting across her lips.

She knew she had to wake her up – Emma said she wanted to leave at dawn – but surely that could wait another minute? She looked so _peaceful_ , as she never had done awake - it seemed such a shame. Regina swallowed, laying her head down softly on the pillow again. It smelled of salt and wood and cinnamon and vanilla and slightly of whiskey: good smells, comforting smells, Emma smells.

That was the first thing she'd been aware of last night, when she jerked to consciousness in the blonde's embrace. The nightmare was hardly anything, just another fantastic childhood memory. It happened sometimes. What never happened before was waking up to a comforting voice, strong arms, gentle hands.

Regina swallowed. She breathed in, twisting her head and shoulders around to look at the sleeping captain. Reluctantly, she moved an inch back, so she could nudge her shoulder with hers. "Emma," She whispered. "Emma, it's dawn now."

The pirate shifted slightly, arm curling tighter around Regina's waist, pushing her face against her shoulders. She was mumbling something sleepily, unintelligible – it spread an unfamiliar warmth through the brunette's chest. "Hey, _Emma_ ," She tried again, a little louder. Still nothing. "Wake up, you lazy useless pirate," Regina tried, voice rising to its normal level.

"Hmm – huh, what?" Emma's eyes snapped open, head jerking back. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," Regina tried a comforting smile, eye searching her suddenly alert face. She still had her head and shoulders twisted awkwardly on the pillow, so she could talk to her without breaking their hold. She wasn't thinking about that just now. "It's dawn." She explained. "I thought you'd want to leave soon."

"Oh," Emma frowned slightly, brows drawing together. She glanced over Regina's face, seemingly surprised. "Was I asleep?"

"Of course," Regina told her. "That's generally what happens when you go to bed at night."

"Oh. Okay." Emma shook her head slightly. "I just don't normally – do that, I guess." She blinked, apparently confused. And then she seemed to realise all at once that she'd been holding Regina as she slept, awkwardly retracting her arm and jerking away across the mattress. "Sorry if I –"

"Don't apologize." Regina told her. She sat up suddenly in bed, eyes searching Emma's. She paused. "Thank you, actually. For last night."

Understanding filled Emma's sleep clouded eyes as she pushed herself up . She opened her mouth to speak but ended up just nodding awkwardly, sweeping blonde hair back from her face. "I – you don't have to thank me, Regina." Her voice dropped off, gaze dropping down for a moment before she turned to catch Regina's eyes again, thick with guarded care. "You sure you're okay?"

"It's nothing, really," Regina assured her, staring. Emma looked genuinely concerned. Like it mattered whether she was okay or not. Like it had mattered last night, when her hands were in her hair and her heartbeat was under her ear. She frowned, blinking the thought away with a shiver. "So are we leaving now?"

"Yeah, we should," Emma nodded, easing herself off her side of the bed.

On their way down to the common room, Emma banged on Alaric and Sal's door: they only had to wait around by the bar for a few minutes before the duo appeared, slightly rumpled, but cheerful enough.

They set off before the sun had finished rising, an infinite, imperceptible shift in the space between them.


	13. Sunlight and Answers

**A/N** – Okay, I can promise you now that Rumple has his legit reasons for taking Henry, and you (along with Emma and Regina) will find them out, because I am really not a fan of stories with 2D pure-dark Rumple. Just not yet... I have to keep you guessing a little longer. So for now, I ship my OCs.

 **13\. Sunlight and Answers**

With the rising sun on their backs, Regina and the three pirates (honestly, she was never going to get used to this) made their way steadily through the forest.

It wasn't bad, Regina thought, compared to the last time she'd followed this ridiculous woman across a remote island: the rising sun was thin and golden, the air crisp and bright with morning. Pale shafts of sunlight speared through the leafy canopy above them, falling in soft patches on the dirt beneath their feet: though still densely forested, this island at least had a proper marked path. It was refreshing to be somewhere with at least the appearance of civilisation.

Somewhere along the line Emma drifted into that pirate-captain-on-a-mission state she was prone to and stopped talking or looking anywhere except the trail, but Regina was used to that now. It was a mothers prerogative, after all. The other two – Alaric and Sal – however, turned out to be... not _bad_ company. For pirates. _Obviously_.

They reminded her a bit of a married couple – not Mother and Daddy, of course, but some of the couples she'd met at balls – always bickering and laughing and occasionally trying to carry each other around on their backs. Well, she'd technically never seen anybody at a ball attempt that last one. But that was the kind of energy.

It was a strange experience, walking over this small piece of land with these coarse outlaws a thousand miles from anywhere she'd ever been, feeling more comfortable and more alive than she'd ever felt with her own mother under her own roof.

"So, Emma, oh brave and fearless leader," Sal called, with mild interest. "Do we actually know if the lovely Kestrel Coralie even still lives here?"

"Nope," Emma replied, not looking back at him. Regina smiled slightly at the ground, and then up at the back of her head, still a few metres out ahead.

"Do we have a backup plan if she doesn't?" Alaric pressed earnestly.

"Nope," Emma repeated, staring dead ahead in front of her.

"Lovely, Sal, really?" Alaric shot him a scathing look, shouldering past. Regina watched him, trying not to smile for the sake of her own peace of mind. Strange to think she'd thought he was some unwashed savage a few weeks ago; maybe he was ridiculously stereotypically built and hardly articulate and his ratty dark hair had needed a trim a long time ago, but he was a decent man. With good intentions. Better than some kings she could mention.

Not for the first time, Regina reflected on how thankful she was that she ended up on Emma's ship, with Emma's crew misfit outcasts. And Emma.

She couldn't help the smile breaking over her face when Sal jumped after him, throwing his arms around the taller man's neck and hanging off him while he walked like a crazy monkey. She did however begin to feel rather out of place when they started going on about some inside joke, and before she knew what she was doing Regina had hurried along the trail until she was beside Emma.

The captain didn't look over at her, perfectly encapsulated in her own little world. The sunlight spilled over her blonde hair, caught in the weathered folds of her faded red jacket. Though the pirate was tense as she ever was awake, the light over her pale skin seemed to soften her hard edges, blur out the angles. Maybe she was just hung up on how bizarre it had been to see her relaxed and asleep, but she was sure there was something different about her, some rugged beauty that couldn't have been there before. She'd have noticed. Wouldn't she?

Regina looked sideways, trying to catch her gaze. "You okay?" She asked, falling into pace beside the captain. She tried not to think about the fact that she'd just initiated conversation with this woman.

Emma frowned at her, like she was surprised she'd spoken. "Fine." She shook her head absently, stare darting back steadily in front of her. She paused, walking carefully on beside her. "You?"

"Fine." Regina countered, tucking a dark wave of hair behind her ear. She breathed in sharply, avoiding the blonde's stare again. They walked like that for a while, silence growing heavier and tighter as they both purposefully didn't look at each other.

Her breath felt too thick in her lungs. She was trying not to think, trying not to get too caught up in what had happened like she always did and yet – Emma had seen her like _that_. She had no idea what she'd said or done before she woke up: woke up cradled against the pirate's chest, _hyperventilating_ , mind. Having that control suddenly derailed was jarring.

God, this was all so ridiculous. How could she go on after that? Regina did not let anybody see her that way – she couldn't. It was wrong. It was _weak_. Weak, she'd been _so_ weak in front of the one person that needed to believe she was strong. You couldn't come back from that. Regina swallowed around the lump in her throat. _What am I doing?_

"Well, that was a lie." Emma stated, blunt as ever. Her voice softened, almost imperceptibly. "You're not okay."

Regina's head whipped around, heart in her throat. She glanced over the pirate defensively; Emma was looking at her now, face set and serious, hair full of sunlight. She huffed, folding her arms over her chest. "What, because I'm not complaining?" She shrugged. "Maybe I just got tired of wasting my energy."

They'd both stopped walking now, standing in the downtrodden path, staring. Emma was looking at her resolutely; Regina ignored the guarded tenderness in her stare and pretended nothing was happening. Emma stepped forward. Her heart leapt. Regina stared up at her, defensive, warily watching the sunlight spilling over her hair, the shift of emotion behind her eyes.

"Regina," The blonde softened, green eyes seeking hers. There was some strange care written across her features, in the slight furrow of her brow, the softness behind her gaze. "You know I don't think any less of you, right?"

Regina swallowed, trying to muster the strength to look away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do." Emma's green eyes flickered over hers. Her voice was soft. The sunlight was glinting off her jacket. All around, leaves were rustling, whispering in the gentle breeze. And then Regina was thinking back to the island, the fire, the stupid cut on her hand. She'd been weak then, too.

"If anything... God. I had no idea." Emma's tongue darted to wet her lips, like she was anxious. "You are a brave woman, Regina." Shocked, Regina stared at her – when she opened her mouth to talk, Emma leapt in to cut her off, and she was glad, because she didn't know what to say anyway. "I don't care what she told you. I don't care what she made you think." When her stare met hers, she felt it like a blow to the chest. "You're strong."

"I..." Regina trailed off. There was a strange feeling settling in her chest like dust. She wanted to make some snappy comment and call her pirate and get back to reality, but something about the look in those green eyes... something made her almost believe it. She breathed in carefully, lifting her gaze begrudgingly to Emma's. "For what it's worth, I think you're one of the strongest people I know too."

"Oh." Emma almost frowned, and almost smiled, gaze flickering to the ground for a moment. After a while, a slow smile spread over Emma's face. "Well I goddamn hope so, princess. I'm not doing this for the fun of it."

And just like that, the awkwardness was gone.

It took a while of walking before the feeling in her chest dissipated: they walked more leisurely than before, following the trail of tramped-down shrubbery that constituted a path, with the sunlight fluttering green-tinged and glowing through the leaves over them. A few metres behind, Sal was laughing, in that unrestrained puppy-dog way of his. Regina glanced behind her absently. Alaric was laughing too, a slight incredulous grin, eyes bright in his sun-browned face.

"Do you ever feel like a parent crowding their unruly child when you spend too much time around those two?" Regina asked.

Emma raised an eyebrow at her, blonde hair swinging over her shoulders in the sunlight. "Try walking in on them in a storage room when they're supposed to be at my very important pep talk."

Regina gaped, staring at Emma for a moment. The blonde was trudging on down the path, light enough but still grimly determined to find this Kestrel woman before midday, absolutely serious. She stopped for a moment, turning around to stare at the two pirates, affectionately shoving and joking back and forth. She turned back to Emma, eyebrows raised. "You mean – _those two_?"

"Think so," Emma shrugged.

Regina frowned. "But Sal – at the tavern, he was flirting with that girl –"

"Yeah," Emma shrugged again, glancing sideways at her. "Sal flirts with anything with a pulse, princess. Girls, boys, old people, babies, Alaric. It's just who he is. But," she raised her eyebrows again. "I'll tell you a secret. Last couple of months, he's stopped doing anything else with those girls and boys. Think he's settling down, if you catch my drift."

"Oh." Regina stared, brow furrowed, from Emma to the pair behind them. She fought to maintain her composure – anywhere with a shred of normality, this whole conversation would be considered highly inappropriate. And yet – she didn't want to seem like some insipid sheltered princess. Particularly not when she'd already been under the guise of being a prostitute. "I didn't think – I mean..."

Emma stared at her this time, finally slowing in her tracks. A slow, teasing grin curled over her face. "Didn't get much of this in kings' ballrooms, huh?"

" _No_." Regina remarked, shooting her look. She tightened her jaw, folding her arms self-consciously across her chest. She was slightly annoyed at how quickly the pirate had read her thoughts. "Back in those ballrooms we were civilised people who respected one another's' privacy!" She paused, inhaling slowly. "And when you were courting somebody you were courting _only_ them. Publically, at least. If you were married... That was it."

"Right." Emma gave her a look, as if to say how much she believed that. Regina ignored her, matching her pace as they walked beneath the trees and considering just what a miracle it was that she was here, on some obscure piece of rock with these criminals instead of married, trapped... _Who'd have thought? After a while, Emma glanced back at her, grinning. "Bet some of those knights were at it, though."_

"Emma!" Regina exclaimed, scandalised.

"It's fun, princess." Emma caught her eye purposefully, cocked an eyebrow. "You should try it some time."

Regina stared. She stood, gaping for a moment as Emma shouldered past, a bizarre swagger in her walk that hadn't been there before. Was she... _flirting_? She hurried to catch up, strange and completely coincidental tingling in her chest. Again, her mind added. Emma might have been concussed, but she was sure it still counted. "Excuse me, pirate," Regina replied. "I'm not sure what you're trying to imply."

"Right," Emma didn't look at her, but made a face at the horizon that said just how much she believed that. Regina gaped at her. A grin crossed Emma's face as she shook her head incredulously. "Was it seriously so uptight back there?"

"I was always taught that gossip was for tavern wenches." Regina replied airily. Emma was still staring at her. She sighed, nodding slowly and tightening her folded arms. "You have to understand, it was a very different world. Nobody did anything unmarried, and nobody speculated because it was vulgar, improper. And even then it had to be discussed with both families, formally arranged. I'm sure people were having affairs and such all over the place, but it was all swept under the rug." She explained.

Emma didn't say anything, silently considering. As they walked, Sal and Alaric's laughter swelled in the thin air. Regina glanced back at them, a strange kind of affection welling in her chest. Good lord. What in hell's name is happening to me? She stared over at Emma. "You know who they remind me of? There was a kingdom, far away, with two kings. Married nice and properly, mind you. But they seemed like very nice people."

Emma, apparently, only picked up on one thing, turning to stare down at Regina, dead serious, genuinely interested. "And what about two queens?" Regina almost sighed, almost laughed. _Typical_.

"Not that I know of." She considered. "Married ladies, maybe. Duchesses at most." She paused, shivering slightly as a thousand of Mother's lessons came rushing back, a hundred too-tight ballgowns, an old man she didn't know kneeling in front of her. She frowned, blinking at the ground. "Women don't really rule without a man."

"That's not how works on my ship." Emma told her honestly, wide green eyes boring into hers.

Regina stared, unsure of what to say next. She had a feeling they weren't talking about the monarchy anymore. She breathed in sharply.

"I figured," She remarked, with a look. She sighed, and although there were a thousand rushing memories and an absurd gratitude spinning through her mind, Regina held her tongue. What with the incident last night, she'd let slip too much of her own tragic backstory lately. Emma didn't need that. "I just think you like to boss people around."

Emma made an incredulous noise in the back of her throat. "Look who's calling the kettle black!"

Regina rolled her eyes huffily. "Excuse me, pirate, but –"

She cut herself off when she realised that Emma had stopped walking.

Instead, the captain was standing in the middle of the path, frowning. Regina hung back behind her, glancing over to whatever it was she was staring at – she saw immediately. A few metres ahead, the path forked off to the left. And by path, she meant vaguely trampled undergrowth and hacked back brambles. _Honestly_. "Well?" Regina enquired, eyes seeking hers. "Is that the way?"

"Holy sails." Sal. Skidding to a stop beside them, perpetual lopsided grin still in place. "Can't believe this thing's still here."

Regina glanced at him. The brightness in his blue eyes seemed to contradict the heaviness she'd found in Emma's.

"Huh," Alaric caught up quickly, peering earnestly at Emma. "Captain? We going down there?"

"Emma?" Regina pressed. She was hardly informed enough to say anything else.

That seemed to break the captain from her trance at least – Emma straightened up, shaking her head slightly. There was a deep furrow in her brow, mouth downturned. Immediately, Regina could see her slip back into her intense-pirate-captain-on-a-mission mode. She watched incredulously as the blonde turned down the path, no regard for any of them. "What's going on with her?" Regina asked, squinting after her in the sunlight.

"What's not going on with her?" Sal replied, nudging her good-naturedly on the shoulder. "But really. I wouldn't worry yourself. Captain's a complex woman. She fluctuates." I'm well aware. With that, he ducked past her, bouncing after Emma down the track.

"That's helpful." Regina remarked, folding her arms as she set off after them, frowning at the ground.

She was talking to herself, to be honest. She hadn't realised Alaric was keeping pace with her. "You worried about her?"

Regina glanced up at him. He was ambling beside her, clearly hanging back on purpose. His voice was gruff as ever, but there was a softness in his tone that she wouldn't have caught before. It gave her a strange feeling, thinking back to a time she'd wanted new clothes and Emma thought it as funny, and he nothing but a coarse, intimidating criminal, and she didn't see either of them as people. Suddenly, that seemed a very long time ago. She breathed in sharply, nodding slowly. "I suppose."

"Mm." Alaric's broad shoulders shrugged, scarred hand coming up to rub the dark stubble on his jaw. "Captain's got a lot on her mind. Hell of a lot's riding on this, you know. She hasn't had time to come by here for years. Doesn't even know Kestrel still lives here, let alone wants to help us. We're like strangers now."

"Okay," Regina considered. She exhaled slowly. "So this Kestrel woman you keep talking about..."

Something strange happened then: a slow smile twitched over the pirate's face. He opened his mouth, smiling. "Don't worry about that, m'lady." His dark eyes found hers, shining in the sunlight. "She's not really Emma's type."

Which struck Regina as a rather strange comment to make.

She was just staring at the ground thinking about how irrelevant that was – because really, she didn't care whether some girl was Emma's type or not. It was none of her business, anyway. So maybe they kissed once but that didn't mean she had any –

"We're here." Alaric nodded toward the quaint wooden hut a few yards down the path.

They hurried to catch up with Emma and Sal, jogging over the hard packed dirt and greenery until the four of them were gathered outside the door. Regina breathed in sharply, looking between the pirates. Sal was gaping, awe twitching at his puppy dog grin. "It's still here!"

Regina looked at Emma. The captain was lingering by the door, brows knit, green eyes shining. "Well, let's see if anyone's home." She breathed, stepping up to the wooden door and knocking.

The four of them stood in absolute silence, breath baited. For that moment, the world seemed very peaceful and quiet, leaves whispering softly overhead, birds chirping out of tune, the feel of the green and gold sunlight warm and rough on her skin. Except Regina could feel her own anticipation rising, along with the bizarre urge to smooth down her hair. _You know what, Emma can have whatever type she wants. It's nothing to do with me._

Then the door opened.

They all stepped back in unison, shocked. Regina glanced up sharply into the doorway – there was a woman standing there, and judging by the look of complete disbelief on her face, she guessed she was Kestrel. Or maybe not. After all, it wasn't everyday three ethical pirates and an ex-princess turned up on your doorstep.

But then a smile broke over the woman's face, and she stepped closer to pull Emma into a hug, and that was that.  
Regina bristled. Honestly, she didn't see what the big fuss was about. She wasn't even that pretty; pale, freckled skin, red-brown hair, badly sewn clothes. After a few beats Emma hugged her back, arms coming up awkwardly around the woman's back. Regina stiffened, mustering her best future-queen posture and smoothing her hair. They'd been hugging for _way_ too long. She coughed conspicuously.

That broke them apart – at last. Emma stepped back, and in that second, the woman pulled Alaric into a hug instead. _What is this? A love-in?_ Regina grimaced at her. Then, she glanced back toward Emma, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway, still frowning. Still frowning! Shallow triumph sparked in Regina's chest.

When at last the woman released Sal, she finally stepped back to talk, face flushed with shock. Her grey eyes swept over the four of them, overwhelmed. _Oh, get over yourself_ , Regina thought scathingly. Kestrel opened her mouth again. "Emma – Alaric – I don't understand. What are you doing here? It's been years."

"Yeah," Emma nodded. It was hard to tell with the frowning and the sunlight making everyone squint, but she almost looked guilty. "Things have – changed. Can we come inside?"

Kestrel nodded, stepping back into her crude little hut with a confused nod, holding the door open. "Of course."

 _And she lives in an ugly house,_ Regina thought to herself, as she ducked in after Alaric. _Tiny ugly house._

-0-

Inside, Kestrel's house was practically unchanged.

She led the other three into the main room, brewed them tea just to be polite, asked Sal and Alaric how things were. Regina glowered the whole time, which was weird. But then Emma took the plunge and asked if they could talk alone, about the map, and so there they were, sitting in silence at the tiny table in the side room, while Kestrel examined the map and Emma pretended to know what she was doing.

It put a weird feeling in Emma's chest, like all the memories of her pre-Henry days caught up with her, all those ghosts were right back with her. For so long, she hadn't thought about it – hadn't had time or reason to recall the days she used to have friends, dock on the island to see Kestrel, play chess in the stern with Wren, lose all her rum to Alaric at cards. The days she used to live and not just survive. Now she just sat in her cabin, tracing maps and clues and drinking.

 _Well, nobody can say you don't know how to have fun._

Emma sighed, glancing around the familiar room at the unfamiliar trinkets hanging on the walls. Surprisingly, when she'd given Kestrel the map, the woman hadn't been hurt or even annoyed that the first time she saw her in years was just so she could get her help. She'd simply accepted the map and started scrutinizing, as she did. Maybe she just noted that Henry wasn't with them and put two and two together. Whatever. Emma didn't want to know. For the time being, she was just thankful.

It took less than ten minutes for Kestrel to figure it out.

"It's a trail." The cartographer told her simply, looking up from the map to meet her eyes. "There's a trail on this map, most likely to whatever you're looking for."

Emma's eyes shot up. "What?" God, she didn't want to get her hopes up – it had happened too many times – and yet she could feel that familiar thudding in her chest, the breath snared in her throat, the lightness in her blood.

Kestrel nodded, fingers running over the parchment. "Invisible ink." She explained, in the same way Emma would explain why the sky was blue when Henry asked. _It just is_. Emma stared at her. "Some kind of enchantment, so you can't see it. Sacrel bark and spellsnake poison, to be exact. You can see the parchment's reaction quite easily if you know what you're looking for."

"If the trail's just there, why'd they bother with the rhymey bit about crystals?" Emma demanded, still unsure. She could feel her pulse racing in her temples, her wrists. So close, so close, but she had to be absolutely sure before she let herself celebrate. "Why code the coordinates like that? Why even use the coordinates?"

"You've been going about this all wrong," Kestrel told her plainly. Slate grey eyes drifted back down to the paper again, before lifting back to meet hers. "Whoever made this is very smart. Look," She slid the map across the table, motioning for Emma to lean forward and watch as she explained. Feeling increasingly like a slow child in a schoolroom, Emma complied. "The coordinates aren't leading you to the thing. They aren't leading you to any one place. They're random islands, beaches, coves. I'd say what they're leading you to is... ingredients."

"Ingredients? Ingredients for what?" Emma frowned, raising her head. "I'm finding a compass, not making an omelette."

Kestrel sighed, giving her look. "Ingredients for the antidote to the invisibility spell." Emma's heart leapt. Kestrel laid her finger on the map, right over the island they were on now. "See this island? The first coordinate. Why? We have limestone here. It's native, plentiful. Used in a lot of treatments like this. Most of our buildings are made out of it. You'll have to grind it yourself but I can give you some right now."

"Are you sure?" Emma demanded, heart in her throat. "You're absolutely sure?"

"Emma," Kestrel stared. "I'm sure. It's expertly done, the craftsmanship, the very idea is so _sly_. Hiding the answer in plan sight like that..." She trailed off. Emma could hear the awe in her voice, the slight envy – like her father before her, Kestrel was a cartographer through and through. Emma found herself smiling. "Anyway. I don't know where you'll find what, but I can make an educated assumption about the rest of what you need for the antidote. I'll write it up for you."

" _Thank you_ ," Emma breathed. "Thank you so much, Kess. I just... Why?"

Kestrel exhaled quickly, and then fixed her with a look. "Because. I know you, Swan. You've changed. But... Whatever you're not telling me, I can see it's important." She paused. "I'm going to go and draw you up that list."

Emma sat there while she wrote, a strange, overwhelming feeling flooding through her. For the first time in – god, she didn't even know how long – she felt it truly, in her heart. It took her a moment to place it.

Hope.

It grew in her blood, sparkling, flourishing through her bones, dancing in her chest. Slowly, it spread across her lips. I'm coming, Henry, Emma thought, with more belief than ever before, wherever you are, I'm coming for you. By the time they left Kestrel's hut, with a neatly written list, a map they were finally closer to reading, and a strict order not to stay away so long again, Emma was almost happy.

The four of them made their way back through the woods as the afternoon turned pale and golden, and a translucent lilac evening started to crept up. Emma couldn't help smiling, feeling weirdly alive and overcome as they trudged back down the winding path, hair swinging over her shoulders in the cool air.

And she wasn't the only one – her happiness infected Alaric and Sal. God knew they'd been with her this whole journey, loved Henry as much as any family. They were laughing and joking and shoving as always, but there was a new lightness bubbling up in all of them. A victory.

Regina, however, seemed less than thrilled.

"So, you and that girl." Regina's voice was tight, jaw clenched as she trudged down the path beside her. "You seemed pretty friendly."

"Mmhmm." Emma murmured, only half listening.

"She's pretty." Regina stated, folding her arms across her chest.

A slow smirk crept across Emma's lips as she realised something, a slow burning triumph in her chest. A new kind of excitement danced in her stomach. She turned around grinning smugly, eyes searching hers. "Are you jealous?"

Regina made a derisive noise in the back over her throat, smoothing back her hair. "Maybe in your wildest dreams, pirate."

"You are," Emma realised, grin widening. She stared at the brunette, stopping suddenly in the middle of the path. "You're jealous."

"That's completely absurd!" Regina managed, staring incredulously. Oh, she was putting on a good show of haughty disbelief but that was about as transparent as water. A slight pink flush was creeping over her cheeks. "Of _what_? Her ugly wooden shack five miles from civilisation? Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, princess." Emma grinned, shaking her head. "Trust me, you have nothing to worry about."

When she shouldered past to catch up with Alaric, heart thudding, she could feel Regina's eyes on her. A slow, breathless smile curled over her.

 _So that's how it's gonna be?_


	14. Just Physical

**A/N –** This chapter is so long because it is basically just a romance novel I sgt. But it got so long that I've had to chop it in half (very George R R Martin of me, right?) and post them as two separate halves, but just at the same time. So the next chapter (which I'm posting immediately) just follows right on.

 **13\. Just Physical**

"Captain?"

"Wren," Emma turned to meet the ship boy's eyes (as best as she could, considering he was a good foot shorter than her).  
"There's land a few knots north. Matteo spotted it, proper." The lad was looking up at her, squinting in the harsh glaring sunlight, breeze teasing his overgrown blond hair across his eager face. Though the winds of winter still lingered, the spring sun was seeping over the grey ocean waves fast enough. The deck was bright; it was somehow encouraging. "But if that's not the island you meant, Captain, are we still set to keep her steady?"

Emma shook her head absently, blonde hair lifting and curling like a banner through the bright blue air. "'s not it. We're too far north, still, true pirate territory. The island we want's further south. So keep course." She glanced down at him, standing almost painfully alert on the rough boards of the poop deck. A faint smile crossed her heart, warmth running through her chest. The boy was no more than fourteen, honest, way too desperate to please. He looked almost crestfallen. Emma's eyes sought his, holding his gaze. "But you did well to let me know. Keep at it. I want to be aware beforehand of any land we pass."

"Course, Captain," Wren nodded, flushed pink. He was trying to conceal a proud grin.

Emma watched him run off, almost tripping over his own feet to scramble back up the rigging, dagger banging at his skinny hip. She'd picked him up two years ago, when he'd been a scrap of a boy, run off from his drafting in the war. He was too much like Henry for her to leave behind.

"Can he use that?"  
Emma turned around suddenly, pretending her heart hadn't jumped at the familiar voice. Regina was walking purposefully across the deck to her, head cocked, hint of a smile on her lips. Her dark hair was shining, and somehow not going crazy in the wind, _the_ _damn perfect bitch._ Even so, she couldn't help the smile quirking her own mouth.

The breeze was rippling through Regina's shirt – Emma's shirt, technically – and though it was still a size too big, it somehow seemed to fit better now. And then Emma realised why – with the deck rocking beneath her, grey glimmering waves spread out all around her: she looked like a part of the scene, for the first time. Like _she_ fit better. It did something to Emma's chest.

She turned her shoulders, meeting the brunette's gaze with slightly raised brows. "You mean the knife or the brain?"

"I meant the knife," Regina clarified, stopping languidly in front of her. She folded her arms. "Nobody his age can use a brain yet."

"Hey." Emma gave her a look, eyes wide, mock-scolding. "I'll have you know I was a very mature teenage pickpocket."

"I'm sure you were." A slow smirk drifted over the other woman's mouth. It turned genuine within a second. Regina's dark eyes flickered up to meet hers, and Emma felt the stare like a blow to the chest. "Does that mean I'm getting that backstory time soon?"

"Patience, princess," Emma pressed, eyes never leaving hers. She swallowed, blowing her hair from her eyes. "For the record, he can use the knife. All courtesy of me, of course. Damn royal army didn't do him any good, no personal offense." She skirted pointedly around her professed hatred of the monarchy, lifting her gaze to meet Regina's. "I think in my profession you need all the protection you can get. In this world, actually. Sword's a handy skill. Saved my life a hundred times."

"Good." Regina smiled briefly, eyes trained on Emma's with a grim determination in her set jaw that made her feel like she was finally getting to the point. "Because I want you to teach me."

Emma stared, taken slightly aback. _Was not expecting that_. "What? Why?" A furrow appeared between her eyebrows. The whole time she'd been here, all the princess had done was complain about her stupid hacking, make distasteful faces whenever anyone was sparring on deck. Or at least, had. That was back before...

Before she was a human being, back when she was just an annoying princess Emma didn't know whether to throw over the side or keep around just so she could laugh at the stupid things she said.

Regina frowned slightly, perfect brow cocked. She opened her mouth, as if to protest, and in that motion Emma could see all of her noble blood and dignity. It made her smile. "I mean, I will." Emma assured her hurriedly, before she could complain. "Of course I will, I just... Why the sudden urge?"

The brunette breathed in sharply, considering. Eventually, she lifted her brown eyes to Emma's. "If I'm going to be a part of this crew, I need to know how to defend myself. I need to be helpful." She stated begrudgingly. "Back at the cave, when Rumple appeared, all I could do was stand behind you and hope. And before then, when that man at the tavern recognised me..." She shook her head. "I'm not going to get much further on my own. To be honest, it's a miracle I've made it this far."

"Right." Emma nodded, gaze darting from the earnest request shining in the brunette's dark eyes to the scar on her full lips. She wondered how she'd got it. She remembered how it felt under her lips. Her chest clenched – she shook the train of thought away. "'Course. But you're not. On you own, I mean." Emma's eyes were fixed on hers, exhaling slowly. "You're not on your own."

Something shifted behind Regina's rich brown eyes, her lips parted, ends of her dark hair lifting in the breeze. Emma watched her swallow, saw the muscles working in her throat. Eventually, she spoke. "I know." She nodded slightly. "I know."

So that was how Emma found herself, a few conversations later, running back from her cabin with two blunted tourney swords – perfect for training – that she'd picked up years ago, weirdly aware of her heart beating in her throat. She was so caught up in her buzzing thoughts she literally walked into Alaric on her way back above deck.

"Whoa, Captain," The pirate stepped back, glancing warily from her face to the blades in her hands. "Something wrong?"

Emma shook her head. "No, I'm going to teach Regina how to swordfight."

"Right. Because that's something you hear everyday." Alaric paused, and then he gave her a strange look, eyes sparkling, a hint of a smug smile on his lips. "You're spending a lot of time with Regina lately."

"Yeah, so?" Emma shrugged defensively. She leaned back, stumbled, and then tried to look casual by hooking her thumbs through her belt loops. "It' not a lot, what's a lot?"

Alaric smirked, shaking his head. "You fox, Swan. Go on, you go get physical with the pretty lady."

"Excuse me," Emma stared. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"I just meant you're going to go teach her to swing a sword." Alaric held out his hands innocently. "Why? What were you thinking?"

Emma shot him her deadliest glare. "Shut your damn face."

Then she pushed past him, hurrying back through the holds to the foredeck, heart beating in her chest and a feeling like anticipation thrumming in her veins.

-0-

"It's heavy," Regina complained, testing the pommel of the blade between her hands. It had a strange weight to it she hadn't expected. It was ugly, too: the rough leather wrappings coming undone, blade flat and grey and dull, nothing like the fancy silver swords she'd grown up around. She knew that didn't matter, but it was just a surprise.

"Should be." Emma nodded, meeting her eyes earnestly. Her blonde hair whipped around her head in the breeze. Despite the wind, it was a fair day for spring, bright and golden with sunlight. The foredeck was deserted: they'd have as much space and privacy as they ever would on this ship. Still, Regina could hear the ever-present shouts it took to keep a boat sailing. "As long as you can actually swing it, it's fine. Builds up your strength."

"Okay." Regina allowed, turning it carefully between her hands. She hated not knowing how to do something. It made her feel like some spoiled entitled princess, completely incompetent. Which was the whole point of these lessons – so she never had to feel like that. She wanted – needed – to be able to defend herself. _Reliably_. Not with unpredictable bursts of the magic she'd always hated. She lifted her stare back to the captain. "So what do I do?"

"For starters, you learn to hold it right." Emma scrutinised her for a moment and then stepped forward across the planking. Regina's heart leapt. _Stop acting like a child with their first crush. Stop it._

She watched warily as the pirate stepped around behind her, pulse hammering in her temples. Cool wind rushing over her burning skin, Regina tried to focus and keep hold of the sword, mouth completely dry as Emma leaned forward to put her arms around her, hands resting on top of hers on the hilt of the sword.

She could feel blonde hair brushing her cheek, faint warmth radiating from her body. Shivers ran down her spine. Her hands were the calloused rough hands of a sailor, but there was a surprising gentleness in the way they laid over hers, almost tentative. _Warm_. Regina swallowed hard, trying to focus. "How do I –"

"Like this." Emma's voice was soft, right next to her ear. Regina felt the breath of it against her face. Gently but firmly, the pirate's rough fingers moved along hers, repositioning her grip on the sword. It reminded her of when they'd kissed, how her skin felt so much more like skin. Emma moved her hands along Regina's arms, leaving burning trails where they touched, lifting her elbows. "See?"

Regina forced a nod. She didn't trust herself to speak. Emma stepped back, jogging around in front of her. She squinted in the sun, appraising. A slow grin curled at her mouth. "Good. Feet a little more apart, balance your weight." She nodded. "Yeah, good."

"Now what?" Regina asked. Her hair was blowing in her face.

"Now," Emma grinned, sauntering forward again with her hair full of sunlight and her own blade held loosely in her hand as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "You learn how to swing."

"Isn't that it?" Regina cocked an eyebrow. That's how it had looked when the knights back home had sparred. "You just swing."

Emma laughed then. The rich, light sound of it filled the air before the wind snatched it away. It was nice. "If only."

Then she proved to Regina just how wrong she was by teaching her what it actually took to use a blade. As the day wore on and the sea grew more restless, Emma taught her the basics of swordplay – she tried blocking and attacking and how to move her feet. She was almost offended when the pirate told her it was pretty much guaranteed that any opponent she would face would be bigger and stronger than her, but then Emma taught her how to turn their strength against them, how to use her size to her advantage.

And eventually, Emma looked at her and asked whether she wanted to give her new skills a try.

"You mean – fight you?" Regina raised an eyebrow.

Emma nodded, and then a small smile quirked at her mouth. "If you're not too scared, of course."

"In your dreams, Swan." Regina shot, gripping the hilt of her sword tighter.

"Okay then," Emma's long hair flickered in the breeze as she sauntered closer across the sunlit foredeck. She flexed her wrist, swinging her own blade in a crisp arc. "But I know it's your first time. So don't expect to win. What matters is that you put up a good fight." Then she grinned. "I'll go easy on you."

Regina narrowed her eyes at her, fingers tightening around the weapon. She raised her eyebrow again, meeting the pirate's easy green stare. "Don't you dare." She smirked. "For all you know I love the hard way."

Emma's grin turned incredulous, eyes wide and fixed on her. "Well I can't say I'm surprised." The eye contact held a bit longer – too long, really. Long enough for Regina's heart to race with something other than exertion, skin turn warm from something other than the sun. Then she shook her head, voice less suggestive. "Come at me, princess."

Regina breathed in slowly, blood pumping. Then she swung her sword up to meet the pirate's first attack, ignoring the ache in her muscles. Their blades met high with a sharp glint of sunlight and a metallic ringing noise. She felt the contact in her shoulder. Breath caught in her throat, she darted back away from Emma's next lunge, buying herself enough time to step forward and land a thrust of her own. Emma met it, of course, blades kissing and springing apart in the sunlit air, but at the very last second.

A grin spread over the pirate's face. "Good!" She praised, nodding. Regina was ready for her next swing, blocking and parrying almost easily. The clanging music of their lessons was loud enough to rival the blustering winds, the rushing swelling ocean, the seagulls cawing and the men shouting on the poop deck.

Regina blocked her next attack hard, driving her back. Emma's grin widened. "Good, Regina, that's brilliant!" Regina swung again. Their blades crashed together. Sweat was gathering on her neck, adrenaline pistoling through her veins. "Higher!" Emma urged. Regina swung higher, arm muscles aching, groaning in extortion. "Higher! Come at me, princess, higher and under, you got this!"

Regina winced, pushing through the pain to raise her sword higher, slamming it against the pirate's. She saw what she meant now – if she got Emma focused on defending herself higher, she could dart in and make contact lower, across the stomach, or spin around and attack from behind – this was what she'd meant about using her stature properly. Breathless, she lunged higher still, meeting Emma's thrusts with as much aggression as she could muster.

And suddenly it was all there, everything she needed – all this rage that she could just unlock and finally, finally use. It was her mother, and it was the Dark One, and it was the king. It was every time she'd ever been made to feel weak or useless or stupid. Every time she'd been made to feel like a pawn, a weakling, a bargaining piece. And it was _working_.

Regina darted forward, skin buzzing, watching Emma's sword gleam in the sunlight, her blonde hair ripple through the breeze, her grin curve her cheekbones. There was her chance – she could do it now, but – did she go around or thrust straight? If she went straight the captain could block her at the last minute, granted she was fast enough...

She darted awkwardly over the wooden planking, trying to go for her side, and the next thing she knew the hilt of her sword was knocked from her fingers and metal was clattering to the deck. Strong arms were thrown tight around her, pinning her own arms against her sides, legs against hers, feet between hers, keeping her from moving.

Regina stared at the planks beneath her, chest rising and falling rapidly as her breath fell back into order, lungs burning. She could feel Emma's long hair tickling the side of her face, breath against her ear. Heat prickled over her skin.

"You missed your chance. You paused too long." Emma's voice was strained and breathless, her arms locked tight around Regina's small frame. Their cutlasses caught the light, glinting on the wooden deck. "And you lost."

Regina breathed in carefully, watching the sun glancing off the metal. "Maybe I'm exactly where I want to be."

Her words hung in the air for a moment like soap bubbles. The minute they left her lips she knew there was no going back. No taking them back. She listened to the implications echo and the sound of the sea rushing and her heart beating, pulse thumping in her veins. She could hear Emma's breath catch beside her ear. Regina sensed the shift in their air between them.

Then Emma released her, stepping back hesitantly. "That's a really good start, princess. I think we can call that a day with the sparring." Regina glanced over at her, cheeks hot. The blonde was staring at her with her head slightly cocked, arms folded. "You know, princess, I'm not usually in the business of giving out free combat lessons."

"Well then, maybe I can teach you something in return." Regina countered. "Hygiene, maybe." She pretended to consider. "Manners."

Emma rolled her eyes, but the dazzling grin didn't waver for a second. She took a few measured steps towards Regina, curling ends of her hair lifting in the breeze. Her green eyes were trained on hers. She only stopped when she was close enough for Regina to see the sheen of sweat on her flushed cheeks, the reflection of the rising tide in her gaze. "Dancing."


	15. Seeing

**A/N –** Ditto last AN. Carries straight on, except you're going to like me more this time. Buckle your seatbelts and prepare for intense emotional escalation.

Also, as I'm going on holiday from Thursday, I'm not going to be able to post next week. However, I'll be back the week after that at my usual time, Monday or Tuesday. Promise!

 **14\. Seeing**

"What?" Regina pressed, cocking an eyebrow and trying not to smile.

"Dancing." Emma repeated, mock-serious expression on her face. "I assume that was part of your Princess 101 training?"

"It may have been," Regina allowed coyly. The small, rational part of her brain wondered if she was flirting again. _What the hell am I doing?_

Emma raised her eyebrows, green gaze flickering over her face. "Well, it was certainly missing from my orphan-vagabond turned anti-capitalist pirate training, so..." Without further ado, the pirate swept into a theatrical parody of a bow, unruly blonde curls swinging over her face, before rising and holding out her hand. "May I have this dance?"

Regina fixed her with a withering look. "You're ridiculous."

"I am well aware," Emma nodded lightly. They stayed like that for a second, almost smiling, almost saying something else, stare almost searing. Emma was the one that broke the silence. "Seriously. Dancing lessons?"

"There's no music." She stated.

"Don't care." The blonde shrugged. "You got the birds, the ocean, the creaking. Pirates swearing and joking left right and centre. What's not musical about that?"

"Why in hell's name would you want to learn how to dance?" Regina remarked, gaze lingering on the pirate captain. She wasn't sure what would happen if it left.

"I don't, really." Emma replied honestly, green eyes trained firmly on hers. "Dance with me."

"Okay," Regina allowed, cautious. "But I don't know how to lead."

"I don't even know what that means." The pirate flashed an easy grin. "So I think we'll be fine."

Regina stared at her. She was still getting used to seeing her smile like that, lopsided and light. It seemed to make all the drunken ranting and unsettling dark-eyed determination go away, until she couldn't fathom how anyone thought this woman was an evil, criminal threat. She was more of a puppy dog than anything else.

"Put your hand on my waist." Regina told her, letting her stare flicker back up to the captain's face. She tried to ignore the fact that she was dancing with the infuriating pirate captain she'd spent the past few weeks arguing with, and more than the actual teaching aspect. That, at least, she could work with. "And your other hand goes in mine, like –"

"Like this?" Emma queried, green eyes seeking hers as she stepped closer, one hand finding purchase on her waist, the other threading through her own fingers. Regina met her gaze, breath caught in her throat. She curled her fingers through hers. The pirate's skin was warm, the callouses and scars ridging her hands almost comforting.

"That's fine," Regina nodded, pretending her stomach wasn't fluttering, even though it was probably completely unrelated. She was almost surprised Emma was being so sweet and respectful. She'd been expecting more suggestive jokes. "I'm not really sure how we do this without a tune, but –"

"Princess," Emma told her. Her green eyes were soft. The smile curving over her pink lips was genuine, honest. It put a strange feeling in her chest. "Could you stop being annoyingly perfect for one minute and dance with me?"

 _Perfect_. Regina stared at her. _She called me perfect_. She opened her mouth, trying to come up with something intelligent to say, but all she could feel was the warmth radiating against her waist, the strong grasp on her hand. Nobody had ever called her perfect before. She knew it was just a joke, just another part of their strange back-and-forth flirty banter, but she'd barely even been called _good_ before.

She swallowed, forcing a smile. "I'll try."

Regina blinked, conjuring up one of the better waltz songs in her mind. "So, we move to a four step beat. You step backwards – this way –" She did the step slowly, so Emma had time to figure it out and move in tandem. "Good, and then we go to the side like this."

"I think I'm getting it," Emma grinned. Her hand squeezed Regina's. There was a ridiculous almost childlike pride lighting up her face as she did the next step in time. "Am I getting it?"

"That was good." Regina allowed. She couldn't help herself: watching the pirate beam like she'd just discovered the promised land, a slow smile quirked over her lips.

"Look at me," Emma's finger brushed absently over Regina's waist as she spoke. "Dancing with a princess like a respectable person. Everyone I've ever met will be so surprised."

"What does your crew think about all of this?" Regina mused. "Are they confused? Are they used to it? _Oh, there's the captain fox-trotting that princess again,_ "

Emma grinned, leaning back to look at her with her eyes tracking hers, blonde hair streaming past her face. "Mm, I think Alaric is under the impression I like you."

"Oh?" Regina cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"That's so." The pirate confirmed, with a tilt of her head, and Regina wasn't sure whether she was talking about Alaric's feelings or her own. Before she could ask, Emma raised an eyebrow and spun dramatically, imitating nobles in ballrooms. "Truly, I care only for the honour of the dance!" She dropped her voice a few decibels, enunciating. "My princess."

Regina fought the urge to laugh, instead tossing her head like every other insufferable royal. "Of course," She cocked an eyebrow. "My pirate."

-0-

As a soupy dusk descended on the swelling ocean, Emma sat back against the pillows of her bunk, trailing her fingers over her wine glass and trying to work out what exactly was sparking through the air between her and the princess.

She breathed in slowly, looking across her rich cabin to the thickly paned window. Beyond the dusty glass, the ocean rose and fell in long dark waves, barely making any sound as it pushed and eased the ship along. There was barely any moon, just a pale smudge against the sky, casting a faint silver shimmer on the waves. But that was a cold kind of light, and her cabin was washed with warmth. Flames flickered in their latched lamps, their orange and charcoal shadows waltzing softly over the walls.

Emma took another sip of her wine. It was good stuff, a thick red from the distant shores of Camelot. It warmed her throat and her stomach without fogging her mind. She could hear people moving in the holds beneath her, hear the canvas filling and collapsing in the breeze. It was comforting. That had always been one of her favourite things about this boat, this life – no matter where you went you could feel it still living around you, working.

She guessed that was why she stuck around so long on the slaughter ship. It was the first time she'd been a part of something.

The air around her was thick, heavy, straddling the line between comforting and stifling. Emma shifted on her bed. To be honest, it still felt too big for her, the pillows too soft. She was used to sleeping on lumpy peasant pallets, cramming herself into small spaces, curling up in the dark or the dirt. And then there was Henry. Henry, who she'd rocked to sleep right here, since he was a baby. He filled the gap.

It was only just occurring to her that he might not be the only one who could do that. That maybe there could be room for her son – her search for him – and for someone else, too. Emma took another drink of wine and put the bottle down, back in the cabinet beside her bunk.

She never meant to feel like this – she never could have foreseen... One of the people she professed to hate, another piece tangled mysteriously in the Dark One's game. They was an abyss of secrets between them, and yet... That divide was so much smaller now than it was with anyone.

Like fate, or magic, there was a knock on the door. Soft, insistent. She knew who it was.

"Come in," Emma called, voice rough from the wine and her silence.

The door clicked and creaked open. Regina slipped inside quietly, lingering in the doorway as she closed it behind her.

Without thinking, Emma pushed herself off her bunk, standing in front of the brunette wordlessly. Regina swallowed – she could see the movement of it in her neck - and her gaze flickered up to meet hers. "Captain," She addressed her quietly, but not impassively. Not by a long shot.

"You've never called me that before," Emma told her, gaze trailing from the candlelight dancing in her dark hair to the shadow of her eyelashes on her cheek.

"Haven't I? Well. Anyway." Regina stepped forward, hips swinging. Her eyes caught Emma's, bright and honest. "I just wanted to thank you. For the swordplay lessons, earlier. I know it's not nothing, particularly after you've been so – I can't believe I'm going to say this about a pirate," She breathed in sharply. "So kind. You've let me stay here, eat your food, wear your clothes and for what? I just seem to bring trouble with me wherever I go."

"I'd never have worked out the map without you," Emma reminded her. "I'd have been alone on that island. I'd probably still _be_ on that island, dead or dying if you hadn't been there to look after my wounds and get water and help me down the shore. My son would have spent the rest of his life wondering why his mother didn't come for him if you hadn't been around."

"Well," Regina nearly smiled. "When you put it like that."

Emma grinned. "I mean it. I should be the one thanking you."

"It's the least I could do." Regina told her honestly. "You're a good mother, pirate. Good mothers should be with their children."

"Thanks, but..." Emma trailed off, words welling up in her throat. Words she'd never spoken to anyone before. "To be honest, I don't even know what I'm doing." She paused, collapsing back down on the end of the bed. "I mean, his father was nothing, really, and I was just getting used to being the notorious pirate captain Emma Swan. I grew up running. I didn't know what to do with a kid, I barely even knew what to do with myself. I still..." She shook her head. "I still don't."

"Emma," Regina's voice was weighted with something she couldn't quite name.

Emma lifted her gaze from the floor to the beautiful woman in front of her, breath catching in her throat. "You wanna maybe... sit down?" She offered, catching dark eyes and refusing to let go. "I think I'm gonna tell you my tragic backstory."

Regina looked at her for a long time, before her gaze darted away and she nodded, lamplight erasing the hard lines from her and warming her skin. "Okay." She allowed, sitting herself down on the bunk beside Emma. Closer than she'd anticipated. Emma's stomach tightened, stare flicked up to her face. Their thighs were touching. "If you're ready."

"I don't know why I'm called Emma Swan." She admitted, not once looking away from Regina's face. "That's weird, isn't it? But whatever. Maybe my real parents left a note when they dumped me at the spinster's orphanage when I was a baby, or maybe they died and the spinsters just decided on it, I don't know. I don't know a lot, really. I don't know why I left the orphanage, but I remember living with this baker and his wife when I was really little. They were nice people, I think. The house smelled like flour and we only got to eat the stale bread nobody would buy and they were poor. They couldn't pay for me anymore when they managed to have a kid of their own, so I ended up running errands for this cobbler for his spare room,"

Regina was looking at her strangely. "How old were you?"

"I don't know. I was still just a kid. I can barely remember half of those places anymore." Emma admitted, and that was true. It felt weird, to be saying all of this out loud, like a story or a dream. The floor beneath them shifted slowly over a wave. "By the time I was twelve I'd ran away maybe seven times? Because the families were too poor, or too pathetic, or I just didn't want to stay with them. I used to pickpocket round the docks. Sleep in stables or doorstops when I could. Somehow, I got work cleaning up sailors sick in a tavern there, which wasn't great, but it meant I actually got to sleep in a bed for once." She paused, and then breathed in. "That was how I heard about this new boat. A slaughter ship, looking for hard working young recruits they could train up. _The Judgement_ , it was called. I signed up immediately."

"Was this the ship..." Regina trailed off, undoubtedly thinking about the island and Alaric and infected wounds.

"Yeah." Emma nodded. "I though sailing was gonna be some magic adventure, but... _No_. They only wanted new people because they could work us twice as hard for half the money. The mate was a piece of work. A real bully. As I've mentioned. I made the mistake of standing up for the ones that couldn't stand up for themselves and that got me black eyes more often than not. Always had a big mouth, you know. Always ranted about how unfair society was. I was pretty insufferable back then, but... Everyone else on that boat, Alaric, Matteo, they needed someone like that.

"I built up a bit of a... following, on The Judgement. Guys that respected me and the way I thought. They all thought I was some kind of hero but I just hate tyranny. So we waited. We planned. And when I was seventeen, we committed my first mutiny." Emma smiled slightly in the flickering candlelight. She didn't want to look at Regina and see her reaction just yet. "We decided that we'd be a new kind of crew, where everyone had their say. Where we wouldn't bow down to an unjust system, but we'd only kill those who deserved it. We renamed the ship _The Saviour_ and agreed we'd only take from those who had too much, or needed a taste of how it felt. And if they called us pirates for that, so be it.

"Well, that was all great for a while, but I got agitated. I'd spent my whole life running, with no connections, and I think maybe the home and the family was too much. Back then I didn't have a clue what was wrong so I did the stupidest thing possible and made a deal with the devil." Emma stopped her monologue to breathe in sharply, steel herself for the rest of her story. "I summoned the Dark One. He said he'd help me and he'd claim his price later. A few days, a few meaningless one night stands later, and I was pregnant.

"Henry made me happy." Emma heard her voice starting to waver. She was just about to clench her hand into a fist to stop it cracking – something else happened instead. A small, soft hand moved gently into hers, tentative fingers curling through hers like they had earlier, when they'd danced on the deck of a pirate ship under the spring sun. Emma's fingers tightened around Regina' instinctively, holding on like she would a life raft. "Henry made it work. It wasn't until last year that the Dark One returned for his price. He told me Henry was a very special boy. He had some destiny, some gift..." She swallowed. "The price _was_ Henry. That he got to take him somewhere and train him and I... I got this."

Emma stopped talking, almost out of breath. She listened to the gentle lapping waves beyond the wood, and her own heartbeat in her chest, watched the cabin dance and glow with the firelight. Surprisingly, she didn't feel exposed or vulnerable for letting someone in. She felt peaceful. And not alone.

"My mother has magic." Regina spoke suddenly, thick voice settling in the thick air. "She used to use it on me."  
Emma turned to her suddenly, staring from her shining dark eyes to her parted lips to the scar just above them. Fresh waves of burning hatred washed through her, that same anger rolling through her veins that had all those nights ago, when she'd heard her pleading in her sleep.

"When I was bad. She'd use it to – hurt me. To teach me a lesson." Regina clarified, voice thick and laden with emotion. "Even when I was a young child. I tried so hard, every day, to be perfect for her, to look perfect and say the right things but I just couldn't. I used to think it was because I was inherently _bad_. That I wasn't good enough, that I just _couldn't_ be good enough." Her voice rose and cracked. Her fingers tightened around Emma's, insistent dark gaze seeking the pirate's. "And do you know when I realised that wasn't true? That she didn't own me?" Her jaw tightened, eyes wide. Emma could see every cursive eyelash, every purposeful line of her face. "It was the day you looked at me and told me I was strong."

Emma felt her brows draw together as she watched the reflection of the candlelight dancing in the brunette's eyes. There was that feeling again, flooding through her veins, dizzying. She watched Regina lean forward to catch her eye with her heart fluttering in her chest like a bird. "We're going to find your son, Emma," Regina told her firmly. Her eyes were trained on hers, insistent, certain. "We're going to bring him home."

"Regina," Emma didn't so much hear the word fall from her lips as she did feel it. She'd never bought into religion but if this was what it felt like she'd pray all day long.

"The Dark One's screwed us over too many times," Regina insisted. Her eyes never left hers, almost desperate. "We're bringing that boy home."

"Regina," Emma repeated, unable to say anything else.

Regina stopped. Emma stared, drinking in the way her dark hair fell against her skin, the rhythm of the breath falling from her full lips, the way her scar suddenly seemed more like a medal than anything else. And in the candlelight, with her heart beating more purposefully than ever before, she couldn't stop herself if she tried.

Emma leaned forward until her lips were pressed against Regina's, hand rising to cup her jaw, stroking the skin there. Regina's breath hitched against her. Emma's heart tightened, eyes flickered shut. It only took a moment before the brunette responded, hand brushing against the pirate's cheek. Her lips were so full and soft and warm against hers – there was a moment that time stopped, that their spinning lives seemed to calm slowly and settle like dust all around them while the rest of the world went on.

And then they started moving and couldn't stop.

Emma moved to deepen the kiss first, stomach surging and flipping like the ocean all around them. Without any communication but the blood in their veins, Regina's mouth moved in tandem with hers, head tilting sideways. And then her hands rose again, sliding into Emma's hair, fingers tangling there tightly when Emma kissed her harder.

There was a desperation rising in her, a franticness. Her arm slid around Regina's waist, pulling her close. Everywhere they touched radiated searing heat. Where Regina's fingers roamed over her skin sparked like kindling catching alight, like fireworks, like magic. Her mouth was warm and sweet and right and she needed more, she needed all of her.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, lips moving frantically, taking, giving, praying. Regina's body was so warm, fit so perfectly against hers. She could feel her pulse, her eyelashes brushing her skin. She could smell apples and home and Regina's arms wrapped around her neck fiercely, pressing herself against her while her mouth moved like hope.

And then suddenly she needed more, needed everything. Emma scrambled back, breathless, to sit on the end of the bed again, drunk on wine and honesty and Regina. Her hands were still all over her, grasping her waist, pulling. She must have spoken somehow, communicated with lips and teeth and tongue because Regina suddenly knew, moving to straddle Emma's lap. Her hands were warm on the side of the pirate's face.

Emma's hands gripped the sides of her waist, holding her there as she tilted her head to kiss her. Regina's dark hair fell around them while they kissed, curtaining them off from the rest of the world. They were moving slower now, adjusting. Burning slowly. Savouring. _Relishing_.

They finally parted for more than a second, both of them breathing out of time, chests rising and falling heavily. Regina's face was still against hers, noses brushing, breath and heat and shining gaze shared. For a moment, all Emma could hear was hearts hammering and unsteady breathing. All she could see was those eyes, inches away from hers.

Emma leaned in, claiming those gorgeous full lips with her own once again, pushing her tongue past them. Regina's hands roved from her neck to her back to the front of her shoulders, grasping and tugging while she kissed. She kissed the way she talked: insistently, honestly, brilliantly.

"Beautiful," Emma breathed, as her hands slid from the sides of Regina's waist to clasp at the small of her back, running a thumb over her spine. "Absolutely beautiful."

Regina leaned in to kiss her again, _hard_ , lips moving with desperation, eyelashes fluttering against Emma's skin. Emma kissed her back, tenderly, heart racing, stomach heavy. " _Emma_ ," Regina groaned, voice breathless and low and unsteady. Her fingers had slipped under the bottom of Emma's shirt, playing against her taut stomach.

It went straight to Emma's bloodstream, dizzying.

It fuelled her. She leaned forward, burying herself in the brunette's neck, pressing feverish kisses down the hot skin there, arms tightening, holding her on her lap. Regina gasped, instinctively pressing closer against her. "Emma," She breathed again, strained, barely under control. Emma. Not pirate. Not Captain. _Emma_. She knew what she was asking.

Emma scrambled back over the covers, pulling her with her until she could roll them over, until she had Regina lying beneath her the way she had on the island after the earthquake, when she'd felt something that first time, the nostalgic foretelling of this. Regina's hands clasped around the back of her neck, warm, demanding, eyes falling closed as she pressed her lips hard up against Emma's.

Beyond the window, the ocean rolled on. And somewhere there was pain, and somewhere there was suffering, but that night, there wasn't anything that could really touch them.


	16. Eye of the Storm

**A/N –** I'm back! To everyone asking, I had a great time and it was no lovely coming back to all your reviews and messages. Once again, I am not a naval expert but I am an expert on what the hell is going on with Rumplestiltskin and once again I'm afraid you're just going to have to wait and see...

 **15\. Eye of the Storm**

The second morning Regina woke up in Emma's arms was a peaceful one.

Her eyes opened sleepily, taking in the slowly shifting cabin, wooden panels, golden dust. They fell shut again without having to worry about her mother, or the king, or what she had to do and be to protect herself today.

She just burrowed closer into the soft warmth of the bed, revelling in the contented noise that left her throat like a sigh. When she nestled instinctively into the arm slung over her waist, she could feel the pirate captain move against her back, head pushing drowsily against her shoulder. She could feel her breath on her skin.

The blankets were heavy and comforting drawn over them, she sheet soft beneath her. Almost like she was back in her chambers on the estate, expect her every memory there was tinged with fear and anger and longing, and here there was only... Warmth.

Regina smiled faintly to herself against the pillows. Trust her to feel safer in a pirate's bed than anywhere else. It was like she was back at that inn again, rooted back to reality by the soothing words of a rough voice and the gentle security of calloused hands.

Regina rolled suddenly onto her back, twisting her head on the pillow to look over at the blonde. Emma was already looking at her across the pillows, her soft green eyes wide open and awake. Her lips were parted, her long blonde hair rumpled from sleep. There was an unmistakable tenderness etched in the lines of her face. Something fluttered in Regina's chest.

"Hi," Emma said, eyes never leaving hers.

Regina's gaze met hers over rumpled pillows and blankets. "Hi."

Beyond the glass of the window across the cabin, the ocean was dark and rolling moodily, the grey sky tinged pink and gold with the coming dawn. Spun gold fingers of light were prying their way over the troubled horizon. Regina let the warmth dancing in her chest spread to her lips. There was no point hiding or denying anymore. Not in this way, at least.

Emma didn't say anything, just kept looking at her, soft green eyes trailing over every inch of her face. It made a strange feeling spread through Regina's blood. "Do you stare like that at every girl you wake up with?" She enquired gently, eyebrow raised slightly.

"Only the ones as beautiful as you," Emma replied, eyes trained on hers. Her voice was soft and sleepy, sunrise striking off her mussed blonde hair like a halo. Her face crinkled into laugh at the same time as Regina's. The sound of the pirate laughing – genuinely, not cruelly or nervously or bitterly – was wonderful, but the sound of her own laugh in her ears was strange and unfamiliar. The blonde dropped her head, grinning. "Oh, god. That sounded so much better in my head."

"I think you're better than you think you are," Regina decided, smile set on her face. She was still getting used to this, this _connecting_ and _flirting_ and being unguarded. It wasn't as scary as she'd thought. And she didn't feel as weak as Mother thought.

Emma tilted her head as best as she could against the pillow, lips pressing into a smile. "When did you go from snappy pretentious comments to..." The blonde trailed off, gesturing under the blankets. "This?"

"Oh, I can do that if you want me to." Regina assured her, deadly serious. "Don't think I haven't noticed. Your bed is much more comfortable than mine." She complained, not even bothering to hide the smile curling at her lips.

Emma quirked an eyebrow. "Well then, you're just going to have to spend a lot more time in my bed, aren't you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Regina mused, airily pretending to consider. "I'm a princess, Swan. I think I might need some convincing." She swallowed the last of her doubts and her demons, raising a eyebrow at Emma through the soft fire of the dawn light. "Impress me."

"Happy to oblige, my lady," Emma murmured, with one eyebrow cocked and more fervour than she'd expect from someone with a professed hatred of all things monarchy. Regina grinned, settling back against the pillows as the pirate eased herself up onto an elbow above her, free hand coming down to snake through the dark hair at the side of her face before leaning down and pressing her lips to hers in a long, gentle kiss.

Regina murmured contentedly when the pirate drew back, lingering above her close enough for her lips to almost brush hers, noses touching lightly. Blonde hair fell around her face, curtaining them off from the rest of the world. Emma's green eyes searched hers. "You are so gorgeous," She breathed. "And that's not just me trying to pull some dumb line or stoke my own ego. You are. And I may be a pirate and a liar and a thief but I really... like telling you that."

"Not that your ego needs any more stoking, but..." Regina met her gaze with a coy smile. "You're not so hard on the eyes yourself."

"Is that princess speak for you think I'm hot?" Emma raised an eyebrow. A smug smirk curled at her lips.

"Yes," Regina told her. "I think you're _stunning_. Now shut up and kiss me."

So Emma did. Repeatedly.

Afterwards, when they were done catching their breath in each others arms, Regina managed to ease herself up onto her elbow, resting against Emma's shoulder with her fingers toying through the blonde's. "So," She managed at last. "What's the plan today?"

Emma stared over at her, gaze turning serious again. "We dock at Dead Man's Cove. We get the bone. We're back on the ship in under five minutes. Sail for the last island." Regina watched as the pirate captain raised her head to the window, jaw tightening. "There's a storm brewing."

-0-

And Emma was right.

By the time they'd anchored off shore at Dead Mans Cove the sky had mottled to the angry purple-grey of a bad bruise above them. The wind had picked up as well, whipping the dark blue waves into a choppy frenzy, tipped with sloshing white lace foam. It made Emma uneasy – that, and the beach she was standing on.

Dead Man's Cove had been aptly named. Where ordinary beaches would have trailed into stones or receded into shrubbery or cliffs or road, the sand was piled with bones. Mounds of them, in various states of decay. Human bones, the bones of animals, bones of creatures Emma wasn't even sure existed. To reverse the spell on the ink, she needed one. More precisely, the marrow of a human bone from Dead Man's Cove.

Emma shivered, hair whipping wilding around her face in the wind. She bent down to snatch up a human-looking femur. She'd come alone. All around her she could feel the stinging, salty wind whipping her cheeks, tangling her hair, the sky darkening and curdling above her. Her heart was thudding harder than usual in her chest, wariness creeping into her blood and stiffening her own bones.

She breathed in, jogging back over the wet sand to her little wooden rowboat, rocking manically on the dark waves where the tide met the shore. Emma threw the bone in before clambering after it and grabbing the oars in her rough hands. She ignored the unease spreading like an infection through her system and pushed through, swallowing and keeping her head down under her frantic hair as she rowed. It was hard with the sea like this – the churning waves pushed back against the oars, and though the ship was only rocking close by, by the time she reached it, her hard muscles were aching.

Once she was back on board, Emma strode straight down to her cabin and stowed the bone with the limestone and the drawing of Henry in the drawer, and retrieved the map. When she emerged back on deck, the first of the rain was beginning to fall.

It speckled the wooden deck lightly, rhythmically at first. Tapping. As the winds rose, they threw the droplets around like mad. The air smelled of salt and anticipation. The rigging was twisting in the heavy grey air, the patched mainsail cracking and billowing like mad above her head. All around, the crashing rush of the seething ocean seemed amplified, the deck slanting and tilting rapidly beneath her feet. Emma tried to ignore it as she set her compass. They'd make course for the next island – the one with the nightroot, their last ingredient – immediately.

"Raise the anchor!" Emma shouted, rough voice snatched up and tossed away by the bracing wind. It stung her throat. Shouts of affirmation followed, and men hastening to haul up. "And loose that canvas." She gritted her teeth and glanced down at the map in her hands, the faded lines and elegant script. Her veins buzzed with adrenaline. "There's dangerous waters ahead."

And there was – Emma's heart tightened when she scanned the name of the stretch they were making course for. She jogged over the foredeck through the rain toward the wheel – and ran right into Regina. Emma stared, squinting through the rain and biting wind and wild hair between them. "Regina! You okay?" The brunette nodded. "I got the bone."

"Let's go get that root then." Regina nodded again, a look of grim determination set on her features. The wind tossed dark handfuls of hair across her face; she looked strong, and beautiful, and fierce. Emma tried to reconcile the image with the irritating spoiled princess who'd first come aboard and proud admiration surged through her chest.

"Yeah," Emma agreed. Then she turned around, grasping the rigging beside her and leaning on it. "Boys!" She yelled, raising her voice as loud as she could. It worked. "We're about to sail through the Lost Sea! Now I know you all as men and I know you all as sailors! But I cannot stress the danger ahead enough – you've all heard of sirens!"

Though the wind and the rain and the waves and the creaking were all way too loud for her to hear a reply, Emma could see apprehension stiffen in every one of them. Sal's eyes widened across the foredeck. Wren hung back uncertainly behind Matteo. Beside her, she could feel Regina staring at her. Emma forced herself not to look.

"Well, these are no ordinary sirens! We are about to sail through waters _infested_ with soul singers! Cotton, scarves, whatever, just make sure that whatever you do, you do _not_ hear a single not of their music!" Emma swallowed, jaw tightening as she glanced around her crew through the rain. "One note will put you into a sleep where you'll live out your darkest fears, and you will not wake up 'til it's done." She paused, raggedly breathing in the stinging cold wind. "Now! Release that line! I want to be through this by sunrise."

With that, Emma swung around to face Regina privately again. Dark eyes flickered up to meet hers, unafraid. Emma's gaze flickered over her. "Stay in my cabin." She told her. "I don't want you out here when we get through the Lost."

Regina pulled a face, as if she was so stupid. "Like hell I am, pirate." She stated, eyebrows drawn together. _And... there's the spoiled princess again._

"Regina, seriously. This is dangerous shit." Emma leaned in closer, took a breath. Softly, she caught the other woman's gaze and held on. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I understand," Regina nodded. "But if you try and stop me from staying with you all through this, trust me, pirate, I am _not_ going to be the one in danger."

And despite herself, Emma couldn't help smiling, shaking her head as that fierce amazement welled up in her again. _This woman._ Gods.

Hours later, when the rain had whipped into a frenzied storm, and the moon cast a pallid silvery light on the raging sea, and the rocks were everywhere, and the first mist of the sirens was crawling towards them, it didn't seem so inspiring.

Worry raced through her veins, adrenaline, fear, determination. She had no idea where Regina was. She had no idea who had successfully blocked their ears and who hadn't. The deck was in chaos. The sea was surging like a living thing around them, above them. Emma could feel her heart beating in every part of her body.

She shouted something unintelligible as she hauled the line to get them back on track, water running down her wind-chafed face from her drenched hair, plastered to her skin. Her clothes were soaked, weighing her down. Her ears were blocked hastily with two bundles of cotton (now wet through). Whether they'd work or not she didn't know.

Time would tell.

As they crested the wave, the bowspirit of the ship rose as if it were to ascend into the tortured sky. Hell knew the rain was heavy enough to float a ship. For one minute all Emma could see was sky. In the next instant they plunged suddenly toward the tumultuous waves. They plunged, dark green water sloshing over the deck. The impact jarred the mast, and with it the yard Emma clung to. Her numbed fingers slipped on the cold wet canvas. She jolted and gripped harder. Then with a shudder the ship shook it off, rising through the water and rushing up the next mountain.

Emma released the line, scrambling back across the deck through the lingering water, cascading down the poop. Breath freezing and ragged, clothes saturated and stiff with salt water, clinging to her, in the eye of the storm, the middle of the danger she'd rarely felt more alive. A breathless grin curled across her face. What that said about her, she didn't know.

"Siren!"

Somehow, through the chaos and the cotton buds, Emma managed to hear the shout.

"Siren, up ahead!"

She stumbled to a stop on the slanting deck, stare whipping around frantically. Through the near horizontal onslaught of freezing rain and darkness, she could just make out the figure, silvery against the black rocks in the moonlight. Her heart jolted. Within a second she saw another – just a glimpse – slipping through the troubled water.

"Everyone cover your ears or get below deck!" Emma felt the shout rip itself from her throat more than she heard it. Whether anyone else did, she didn't know. "Nobody risk it!"

Ivan was barrelling past her then, tearing down the ladder to the holds. She nodded, watching him go. As the bow speared through a wall of water, sending dark waves rolling over her boots and soaking her feet, Emma breathed in, raised her head and watched the crew continue to operate as they always had done – with courage, guts and a little bit of crazy to keep it all together.

-0-

Regina was yelling with exertion as she tried to grasp the line back, rough yard of wet rope scraping her slippery palms, meagre muscles in her arms aching in protest. She was on the gun deck, trying to control the mizzen by herself and mostly failing. _Why do I always have to everything myself?_

The rain hammered down in icy sheets, whirling in every direction with the frenzied wind. Her soaked clothes were drying stiff and scratchy against her damp skin with the salt, the wind tore at her skin and whipped in her ropy wet hair as she pulled. _Stupid – pirates – always – passing out –_ cringing, she curled her feet abut the footrope she had braced them on and gripped with all her strength.

With one last roar of effort, she somehow managed to get the thing secure, collapsing backward against the rough wooden deck hard in the process. Her blood was thrumming, zipping wildly and sparking like kindling about to catch alight. Breath frantic, throat frozen, Regina braced herself against her scraped numb hands and tried to push herself up – that was when they plunged over the next wave.

The bow plummeted down, cutting through the foaming waters just long enough for Regina to catch a glimpse of it in the darkness before her end of the ship followed, dropping into the rising wave. She had just enough warning time to wince and raise an arm against her face as her stomach to jolted before the icy water cascaded over the wood, splashing and rolling over her. She gasped as it touched her already freezing skin, once again soaked her clothes, turning them heavy and cumbersome against her shivering frame.

Pushing back dripping hair and spluttering salt water from her lungs, it took Regina a second to realise what was wrong. The noise, the sheer roar of it – tearing wind, cracking sails, shouting, splashing, rushing, tapping, creaking – she froze, bones stiffening on the deck.

She was hearing noises properly.

Panic shot through her. Regina scrambled over the deck, weighed down by her sodden clothes, coughing up salt, grasping over the wet wood. Her earplugs – where did her earplugs - ?

But it was too late. They were gone, washed away with the wave.

And already, the high mournful sound was worming through the chaos, long and purposeful. Beautiful. The tune rose and fell like the sea on a peaceful day, stretching eerily long. Haunting, really...

And the next thing she knew, her eyelids were heavy and the deck was hard under her head as the darkness took over.


	17. Demons

**A/N –** Okay, so, quick recap – the siren song worms deep into your psyche and basically makes you live out the darkest fears/thoughts it finds. However, it's not always precise because people's minds and thought processes aren't. So, depending on the way you think, you could experience one vision that's a kind of trippy mishmash of all your fears together, or you could experience several more lifelike visions of each fear, one after the other.

So I'm posting the next chapter with this one because once again, they were supposed to be one chapter but got out of hand.

Also, with these fears comes a TW for abuse, violence, implied marital rape (nothing graphic at all) and very brief mentions of sexual harassment.

 **16\. Demons**

Regina was sitting up in the cherrywood chair in the dining room, absently stirring her tea and listening to the sound of the spoon clinking against the china cup. The cup was from the ugly water coloured set she'd been sent on her birthday. The long damask curtains were drawn back to let in the high spring sunlight, pouring soft and golden over the polished surfaces of the dining hall; just beyond the thick, clear glass was the world. Verdant. Green. Hopeful. Forever out of reach.

"Regina, dear, I thought we'd agreed to stop that dreadful slouching?" Mother's voice was hard and disappointed as always, the usual polite look of cool distaste fixed onto her empty, smiling face. "It is so dreadfully unappealing in a young lady."

With a small sharp breath, Regina sat up straighter in her chair, forcing her shoulders back and down, staring into her tea. _I'll never be free_. The thin liquid swirled like a whirlpool in her teacup. _I'll never find love._

"Regina, I expect an answer when I speak to you." The older woman's voice tightened, harder and more irritated.

"Yes, Mother," Regina recited. She tore her stare from her tea up to her mother. Cora was sitting across the gleaming table from her, spine rigid, lips pursed, focused on pouring herself a second cup of tea. Her cold eyes fixed on her. "Sorry, Mother."

"I really don't know why you're still sulking, dear, " Her mother sighed, eyebrows raised. Regina swallowed and made herself look at her, at the hard blue eyes that swept over her critically, appraisingly, disappointedly. As always. "You're going to have a charmed life, darling. A perfect life."

"I'm don't want a perfect life," Regina insisted. Her heart sped up against her ribs. She shouldn't be doing this, she shouldn't be talking back but she couldn't stop now. Mother only wanted what was best for her, didn't she? Maybe she could understand... She took a deep breath in and then looked up at her mother. "I want a real life, Mother," She pleaded. "I want my own life. Just to make this one choice for myself."

Cora's face darkened like a storm cloud. "This _is_ real life, darling. In real life you don't always get what you want."

"You do!" Regina's voice rose with the heat in her cheeks, angry, pleading. Her heart was racing. "You always get everything you want, every day. You were just a _millers daughter_ and you managed to get what you want because everyone's so scared of you all the time. You wanted to be royalty and you are. I don't. Mother, please understand. I'm not you." Regina breathed out shakily, letting her gaze drop to the table. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't even your daughter, let alone - "

 _Too far._

She knew it, regretted it fiercely the instant the words had left her lips. Regina froze, shocked at what she had said, icy dread dousing her veins. Cora rose from the table suddenly, eyes wide. However heartless she tried to seem, however much she tried to shield her emotions – sometimes they still shone through. This was one of those times. The anger, in her eyes, flashing, in the way she held herself, in the breath entering and leaving her lungs was almost tangible.

Regina swallowed, hand finding her stomach. The words spilled out of her in a desperate rush. "Mother, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, you know I didn't –"

"Henry, get out." Cora snapped. Her voice was very cold and precise, like ice.

"Daddy –" Regina heard her voice start to say, very small in her own ears. He sighed heavily, wide eye finding hers painfully, apologetically for a moment before he obeyed. The door slammed shut behind him so loudly it made her jump in her chair, and then it was just the two of them.

Her mother waited a long time to say something. "Get up." She strode around the table so she was right beside Regina's chair. "Get up." Regina got up, sliding her chair back and pushing it under the table again afterward. "Look at me." It would not do for her to look weak now, or defeated, however scared she was. She refused to how her fear. Regina looked at her.

The slap came out of nowhere, a sudden stinging pain exploding across her cheek. Regina heard herself gasp, curling her fingers to fists and gritting her teeth as she steadied herself. She would not let Mother see her cry.

She raised a tentative hand to her face, where the hurt was beginning to throb through her skin in a searing, stabbing ache. It would be tender there for days. The tears gathered behind her ears unbidden, so she clenched her teeth harder, forcing herself to restrain them. When she brought herself to speak at last, her voice was shaken but not breaking. "Will that be all, Mother?"

Cora stepped closer to her, harshly, tightly. Her blue eyes blazed fury, lips pursed with disapproval. She made sure she was staring right into her daughter's eyes to deliver to the death blow, voice full of disgust. "You are not worthy of your name."

Regina flinched, expecting another slap.

None came. And she didn't feel the familiar burn of magic, either. Pulse hammering in her wrists, she turned to watch her mother leave the room in a whirl of heavy skirts and simmering anger. Regina clenched her fists harder, nails digging into her palms. Mother was gone but she still didn't want to cry. She was shaking. Her breath was shaking.

Compared to some of her memories this shouldn't be so bad. She'd been ten the first time Mother used magic to punish her – she'd torn the hem of her new dress climbing, she'd only wanted to reach the beads on the top shelf, she was trying to make Mother a birthday present – and she'd gone to sleep crying. When she was twelve and Mother had used magic to restrain her accidently too hard she'd cracked a rib. Mother had acted like she felt terrible afterwards, snapping at the doctors and staying by her bedside all night, but she never once apologised. Then there was that time she was seventeen and said the wrong thing to some foreign king who was visiting and Cora used magic to choke her and she'd sounded wheezy for weeks.

For some reason, this felt worse than all of that.

Regina knew why - it was all in that last sentence. The message was clear. _You are not enough. You never will be enough. You just cannot be enough._

And then, all of sudden, she wasn't at home in the dining parlour any more.

All around, soft torchlight washed the chamber in flickering orange warmth and sent strange black shadows waltzing up the walls like smudged charcoal. The air was too heavy, too thick, stifling. Smothering. Regina couldn't breathe.

She was standing in probably the richest chamber she had ever seen in her life: heavy tapestries hung from the wide walls, expertly-bound books rested on foreign-looking carved furniture. The ornaments were crafted from gold and silver and jewels she couldn't name. And from flesh and blood and hatred, considering she was one of them now. Anger simmered in her veins.

"You seem troubled."

 _I wonder why_. Regina looked up sharply, digging her nails into her palms to try and hold back the hatred, the fury boiling black in her blood. Her new _husband_ – just thinking the word made her shiver in disgust – was waiting across the room, looking at her with mild concern written on the lines of his face. She glanced over him, heart beating wild with fear and fury. "Oh." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. This is all so... Impressive."

"Well there's no need to be nervous," He assured her patiently, in his old-man voice. He wandered across the room to sit on the end of the bed, leaning down to pull his boots off. There was a heaviness in his eyes, too, Regina saw. He didn't want this wedding for himself. It gave fire to the desperation kindling inside her stomach like a trapped animal. _Then stop this, she thought._ _You're the king, you can. Stop this madness_. Instead, Leopold only looked up at her and told her, "You'll be used to it all soon."

Disgust welled in her. Her heart was frantic now. She wasn't sure whether Mother found her, or whether her running away was all just some perfect dream but for whatever reason she was here now. On the worst day of life. Just a few hours ago she'd stared over his shoulder and said _I do_. She'd never liked the taste of wine but as Daddy filled her up glass after glass she'd started to understand that you didn't drink it for the taste. Her head was heavy now, swimming, filled with horrible thoughts. She scared herself now, sometimes, the things she thought.

When he motioned for her, she forced herself to go sit beside him. Already her skin was crawling. She wanted to tear it all off piece by piece. _Don't kiss me_ , she thought, _I can handle anything but that_. When his hand found her thigh it was warm. She dug her nails harder into her palms until she felt the skin break and blood well up, to stop herself visibly cringing. Or maybe smashing one of those pretty ornaments and stabbing him.

"Lie down." He told her.

She did. Thinking of blood and revenge to calm herself, Regina got her wish. He didn't try to kiss her once. But that didn't make it any less degrading when he whispered _Eva_ in her ear.

After far too long the king's bedchambers were gone, and she was suddenly on a throne. By herself.

There was no throne beside her. Her spine was perfectly straight. Her jaw was clenched. Her fists were curled so tight her knuckles had turned white. She was angry. She was _so_ _angry_. There were pale-faced people all around, standing solemnly in the long hall, staring nervously at the man who knelt before her but she was completely alone.  
She always was.

Regina looked out over the sea of downturned faces. Though the room was cloaked in heavy silence, she could feel the discomfort rising off the crowd in waves. There was a tenseness, a tightness in the air, like a knotted stomach, or like the day was holding its breath in anticipation. Fear sparked and cracked through the air like kindling.

"Guilty." The word left her throat precisely, filled with revulsion and finality. She barely recognised her own voice.

She rose abruptly as the room erupted into gasps and hushed conversations. The man stared up at her, wide eyes full of panic, sweat beading on his brow. Before he had time to start grovelling her hand shot out, and with it came that rush, that sparking, tingling build up that she'd felt during the fight, felt at the docks. But this time it felt good. _Really_ good. The man seized up, eyes flashing, clawing at his throat as he struggled for air. Fury raged through her veins. She tightened her hand in the air. His sounds became more desperate.

From the sea of aghast cries and fearful silence, Regina heard one shout above all others.

"Just like her mother!"

And with that, the image changed again.

Suddenly she was kneeling on the hard deck of a pirate ship, with the rocking blue sea all around, and the salty crisp wind in her hair and her dress. She could taste the salt of her tears on her lips, heart beating frantically against her chest. Helplessness tugged at her wrists and her heart like restraints. Desperate anguish was rising through her like a tide, choking her, rushing through her blood. Regina swallowed hard, shaking her head against the tears that were stinging her aching eyes. Her freezing hands curled tighter around the body.

"No, no, no," She could barely hear her own voice, a pleading whisper thick with pain, a smear of anguish in the thin air. "No, please, stay with me, please don't go, please, please Emma, just stay with me..."

The pirate stirred feebly in her arms. Regina struggled, moving frantically on her knees to try and pull Emma up against her, try and urge her to just open her eyes and get up and crack some kind of highly inappropriate joke and _s_ _tay with her_ , god damn it! Regina's fingers were shaking, sticky with a slick of the pirate's blood.

"Quite a... turnaround – " Emma's voice was barely a breath on the breeze, hoarse and strained. The blood was drying in her hair, congealed brown against tangled blonde strands. Her shaking fingers reached for Regina's, sticky with blood. They barely brushed her by, but she clung on tight. She was so cold. Regina squeezed her hand hard, willing her to stay, willing the warmth back in.

"Emma," The sound left the back of Regina's throat like a prayer.

"Do you know, princess – ha, _ah_ ," Emma made a noise caught between a laugh and a cry of pain. Her sticky fingers gripped Regina's like a lifeline. "I think you're starting to like me – _ah_ ," All of a sudden the captain winced, brows drawing together, mouth twisting in pain.

Regina surged closer, fingers digging in, as if she could root her to life. Her face was sticky with tears, her hair was clinging to it. It hurt _so much_. It felt like her lungs had collapsed inwards, shattered, and the shards were jumbling to cut her boiling insides. Mind empty, veins freezing and cracking.

"Please, Emma, please stay with me," She kept saying. She didn't know why. She couldn't stop.

"Tell Henry..." Emma managed, grimacing and gasping as the blood pulsed from her wound slowly, thickly. "Tell Henry I tried. And you –" With one last tight, shaking breath, the pirate's head fell back against her. "You did good, princess."

She shook her head again, whimpering. "Don't," Regina ordered, pleaded, prayed. "Don't say goodbye to me!"

"Okay," The pirate's voice was barely audible, but it roared in Regina's ears long after her skin turned cold and her pulse slowed to a stop in her veins.

Only after what seemed like eternity of kneeling, sobbing on the deck of the ship, clutching a dead body while the wind tore at them did the image change again.

-0-

"Captain!"

Emma spun around to a rough hand clamping down on her soaked shoulder, insistent. Alaric was standing over her, shouting something – she could hardly hear through the cotton in her ears, but she could see the word written on his lips. There was panic in his wide eyes, dark hair ropy and dripping around his face. She shook her head, dripping hair spinning around her, indicating that she couldn't hear.

Alaric jerked his head back, motioning desperately for her to follow him. Emma chased after him as he raced over the rapidly rocking deck – the looming dark waves were battering the ship back and forth from both sides, like a cat with a toy. Through the pounding rain, running icy rivulets down her damp skin, Emma's feet beat the deck in time with her wild heart, ducking ropes and tearing past the main sail, where the sodden canvas billowed and snapped.

He motioned for her to go toward the gun deck before he spun on his heels and raced off past the rigging. Emma gasped for air, forcing her head down against the icy onslaught of wind and rain and salty spray – once she was on the deck she raised her chin, squinting against the weather, and saw what Alaric had meant.

The figure was slumped against the deck, soaking wet and convulsing. Panic shot out from Emma's heart as she tore closer, breath snared in her struggling lungs. Completely unconscious, Regina was thrashing against the planks, head whipping around, mouth opening and contorting in what she could only assume were the tortured screams she never wanted to hear. Soaking wet hair covered her face as she writhed.

Emma dropped down, wrapping her arms firmly under her knees and around her back and hoisting her up into her arms with all her might. She can't have been as light as she looked dry, and the soaking wet clothes didn't help, but somehow Emma found the strength.

Regina squirmed in her grasp, nails scratching at her shoulder. She was whimpering, head tossing frantically from side to side against Emma's shoulder. "No – no – no!"

Her blood ran cold, and not just from the pain in her voice. I can hear her.

And, faintly, the singing.

Damn. _Damn!_ The cotton must have come loose when she was bending down to pick her up, or when she was running – Emma pushed the thought away, gripping Regina with all she had and making her way as fast as she could carrying the other woman down the length of the ship. She forced herself to ignore everything that wasn't that.

But somewhere before the forecastle her head was starting to swim, heavy, dizzy. Emma roared with the strain, muscles aching and tightening around the brunette's thrashing body, forcing herself to be strong until she got out of the open. She didn't have a choice.

By some miracle, the next thing she knew she was shouldering open her cabin door, letting it slam shut in the wind behind her, and staggering to lower Regina's struggling body to her bed as gently as she could given both their states. They'd woken up in that bed this morning, so happily.

That was the last thing Emma was aware of, before her vision started swimming and she fell into unconsciousness.


	18. Demons Part II

**A/N –** Here ya go. Double update since this and last chapter were supposed to be one chapter but got wayyyyy out of hand. Read that for more clarification about the siren dreams. Same TWs apply.

 **16\. Demons Part II**

Sunlight crept through the cracks in the planking overhead, drifting in pale gold stripes that lit up the dust motes swirling in the stuffy air.

Emma was tired.

She was tired of coiling the same fucking line. She was tired of this ugly chain locker that had become her latest home. She was tired of goddamn Kennit and his tyranny. Sighing, Emma sat back on her knees and stared around the creaking room. A hammock of coarse twine hung in the corner. Her scant belongings shared their pegs with coils of line.

The coils. Always the coils. Tidying them, tightening them. It was hard work. And boring. And her hands were scraped red and raw, even though the broken blisters on her palms had turned to a substantial crust of callus a long time ago.

As one of the barely-paid volunteer peasant crew – _the stupid and the stuck_ , Alaric called the rest of them, _men too empty and meaningless to be anything better and men too downtrodden to try_ – she was used to getting the hard jobs that nobody else wanted.

For six months Emma had been woken at hours that were only just starting to make sense to her, clambering up and down masts and dangerously worn rigging, tying knots, sewing canvas, hauling buckets of slush and tar, scrubbing, scouring, carrying and securing the heaviest cargo. And the coiling line. Always coiling the fucking line.

They were the crude jobs, the messy work. Always laid on her by the other, richer, more professional sailors. Which she would have been fine with. That was what she was here for after all. But every command was delivered with a slight smirk, mouths that curled up at the corners.

The work was fine – after her chaotic childhood, she was happy to work hard and fit a regime ruled by watches and bells, and there was a certain triumph to completing the harder tasks, the heavier lifting – but the mockery was what got under her skin. The mockery and the senseless, arrogant cruelty.

Emma glared at the coil, tugging the rough line harder. It chafed against her skin. _Good_. She needed to feel it, to get rid of all the burning anger that had been growing in her forever. Kennit was the first mate aboard the ship, a real nasty piece of work. She sighed as she yanked the line into place. It had all started when she'd first come aboard, a scrappy, scrawny thief used to pickpocketing along the docks. Now, there were plenty of women sailors around, and most people knew and accepted that.

Kennit was not one of those people.

He'd made a seriously inappropriate joke when he'd first been introduced to her. Emma had threatened to cut his balls off if he ever came near her with them. It was probably the first time he'd ever been rejected – and he'd had it in for her ever since. After a few weeks of feeling his eyes on her while she worked, he'd come down to her hammock below decks and when he'd tried, she'd broken his nose. And knocked him out.

After that, she'd been working the hardest jobs for the longest time.

He was smart, ambitious, cold as a snake and drunk on power. Worse, he was charismatic. Charismatic and handsome enough for the other pampered high officials (and some of the stupid crew) to follow his example. She got the worst of the tasks, the hardest jobs, the heaviest loads and was expected to perform them half as quick. His subtle digs at her had the crew all sniggering when she passed. She was barely done with enough time to sleep, let alone eat. Kennit was a stain on humanity as far as Emma was concerned.

And he was currently barging through the door.

"Get up," He snapped, voice crisp and clear.

Emma's heart sank, head jolting up to frown at him. "What? What the hell are you doing down here?"

"I'm teaching you what happens when worthless peasant scum like you don't follow my rules." Kennit explained, irritably. As if she was so stupid for not knowing. "Now get up. I shan't have anyone saying this wasn't a fair fight."

"When has this ever been a fair fight?" Emma snapped, anger flashing through her veins. Confusion and adrenaline raced through her blood.

"So you're talking back even now?" Kennit raised a dark eyebrow. "Scared you'll be beaten by a _useless pampered silver-spoon brat_?" He flashed a thin smile as he quoted her. Emma flushed scarlet. Who the hell had been talking about her rants? They'd become somewhat legendary. Everyone agreed with her. Everyone. " _Coward_." He spat.

Emma leapt to her feet, hands already curling instinctively into fists. "This isn't a fair fight," She stated, already regretting it. "Because there's only one of you against me."

She ducked his first blow easily enough, though doing so knocked the breath from her lungs. She was running on anger and violence, though, so she spun around quickly and threw a punch at his chest. It connected _hard_ – but he managed to catch her wrist, twisting sharply. She winced and cried out, slamming her foot down hard on his. He let go, stumbling back, and Emma yelled, whirling and landing another hit to his shoulder. He responded pretty quickly, fist ramming into her jaw hard.

It felt like they went on that way, like _she_ went on that way, fighting, forever.

Then suddenly she was crouched on the deck of her ship with the wind in her hair and the salt on the air. She was shaking. Her heart was breaking and sweating. Pain coursed through her bloodstream like poison. "Tell me." She demanded. She was almost too tired to be angry. _Almost_. Tears stung her eyes and choked her voice. "Tell me!"

A thin, empty giggle filled the air. It took all the strength she had but Emma raised her head to look at him. The Dark One was standing over her, skin shimmering in the dull sunlight. There was a heaviness in those huge snake eyes. He opened his mouth, stare never leaving her.

"Tell me!" Emma screamed. But she already knew. She almost already knew, and that was why her veins felt like ice, blood like fire. That was why she couldn't see or think through the pain.

Rumplestiltskin sighed heavily, looking at her with empty eyes and no flounces, and suddenly, irrevocably she knew that whatever he was about to say was the truth.

"Your son's dead, dearie."

Emma collapsed against the deck.

Hopeless.

When, an eternity later, she opened her eyes, she was jostling for space on the filthy cobblestones of the crowded square.

The air was crisp and smoky and smelled of the sea, and market smells – pastry and grease and fish, nuts roasting and sweat, packed bodies. All around was noise. An excited murmur of a thousand conversations clung to the crowd, as well as stall owners crying their wares, boasting of cheap prices on the _happy, happy day!_ People were roaring for others to get out of the way, children crying or whining for a pie. And the bells. Beneath it all, the heavy, endless resounding metallic clang of the great bells, ringing and ringing.

"Hey!" Emma grabbed the person in front of her by the shoulder, squirming through the thickly-packed crowd. There was a winding breeze in the air. She breathed in, worming sideways past people, shoving and shouldering a path through the crowd.

"Watch it!" Someone yelled.

"Sorry!" Emma muttered, struggling to push through the torrent of people. She didn't know why but her heart was beating frantically, like a trapped animal. There was a desperation zinging through her veins, zipping. Her stomach was on edge. Her breath was desperate. "Hey! What's happened? What's going on?"

"You stupid?" The meaty man beside her frowned, pushing and craning for a glimpse. "Bells only ever ring like that for one reason."

Emma's heart pounded. She could only catch snippets of conversations, a few words here and there. She stared around wildly, desperate.

"The king –"

"That girl from the country, quiet little thing –"

"Princess was the bridesmaid –"

"Hot pies! Lemon tarts, hot from the oven! Get your hot pies here!"

"Pretty, but she can't hold a candle to Queen Eva –"

"Did you see her?"

"Terribly young –"

"Who saw the king?"

The harder her pulse hammered the more violently she shoved her path through the crowd, desperate. She had to get through – she had to get there on time, she couldn't let... She couldn't stand by and watch – Emma was nearly screaming in panic and frustration, pushing and squirming and yelling. Her breath was ragged, chest rising and falling heavily. "Let me through!" She was shouting, "Get out the fucking way!"

But nobody heard.

They just kept laughing and talking, marvelling at how they could say they'd been there, the day King Leopold married the new Queen Regina.

-0-

Regina's eyes snapped open.

Her chest was rising and falling raggedly beneath clinging damp clothes, heart racing like mad. She could feel her pulse in her throat, temples. Her throat burned, like she'd been breathing sharply too long. Panic still sparked and shocked through her bones. Her head was spinning. Mother – Mother hurt her and the king was hurting her and she was hurting somebody just like Mother did and somebody had hurt Emma and –

She sat up suddenly, heart hammering, breath desperate. Above her, low wooden planks creaked and rocked. Light rain tapped at the window and the porthole, where a hint of dawn was beginning to crawl through. Regina stared. She was lying on her back on a bed. A jolt of panic shot through her like the magic she'd used to kill that man but it dissipated slowly as she realised. Emma's bed. It was Emma's bed, in Emma's cabin, on the Saviour. She was safe.

Her every muscle collapsed in relief. A fresh flood of tears welled up behind her eyes. She couldn't have stopped them if she wanted to. She was shivering; her clothes were stiff with salt, her hair damp and clinging. Everything hurt. And she was crying.

"No!" There was mumbling to her left. "No, I won't -"

"Emma!" The name left Regina's lips like a prayer.

Heartrate still way elevated, she rolled over suddenly to where the pirate was sprawled across the pillows, ropy wet hair covering her face. "Emma!" Regina cried again, voice high and trapped in her throat. Her heart thrummed against her ribs.

She grabbed the pirate's shoulders blindly, white panic rising in her throat. She shook her hard, breath snared in her lungs. Tears streamed thickly down her face. "Emma!"

Emma squirmed away from her touch, growling in the back of her throat. Regina grabbed her wrist, high panic settling like dust over her bones. She felt for a pulse. And there it was, throbbing defiantly beneath her thumb. "Emma," She sighed, collapsing beside her comatose body on the bed. Though she squeezed her eyes shut, the tears still fell.

Memories drifted back to her, flotsam on the black sea.

Emma's voice. The rain. The singing. The sirens. The sirens. She'd just been dreaming, her darkest fears. Regina's throat constricted as she realised. Emma was living her nightmares right now, a few inches away. She stared down at her.

The pirate was tossing her head back and forth against the cushions, brow creased with pain. "'Gina," Emma's voice was small, tight, panicked. It shot straight to her heart. "I have to – 'Gina –"

Breathing in sharply, Regina laid down beside her and slipped her hand in the pirate's. She gripped it tight, with tears still streaming down her cheeks, and refused to let go.


End file.
